Overheard in a bar during a ~40th high school reunion:
"I carried the 'football' [nuclear codes] for President Reagan. I was part of the Iranian hostage rescue effort - did you know there was a second team involved?"
"I keep a photo of President Reagan on the wall at home."
"Did you know he approved the invasion of Grenada because he asked himself what would John Wayne do?"
"I saw him in Houston in 1984 and he remembered me as the young kid he talked with at the small airport gathering in 1980. He's smarter than people gave him credit for."
"I still look young because I graduated from high school when I was six and Vanderbilt when I was twelve. Haha."
"My husband here is Navaho, from Gallup, New Mexico. After our white wedding we had an Indian wedding where I had to slaughter and cut apart a sheep to prove I knew how to feed our family. If I cut myself with the knife during the ceremony the wedding was off. He had to cut down a tree and build a lean-to. We have an acre on the reservation we plan to retire to."
"When Nixon was visiting this area, my father's plumbing business partner was driving a load of dynamite down the same two-lane road as the presidential motorcade. He wondered why men in suits were looking under culverts as he was heading to his demolition job. He'd be accused of terrorism these days even if he was a patriotic American on his way to doing a hard day's work."
"The newspaper called my victory a close win even though I had 61 percent of the vote."
"You're better-looking in person than your facebook photos."
"Thanks so much for contributing to the church organ fund in my daddy's name. That was sweet of you."
"I retired after 34 years of teaching 8th grade math. I join your mother and other retirees for the monthly get-togethers now."
"You're young enough to be my son!"
"You were at Camp Pendleton, too? Did you ride out in an LSD until everyone was seasick and then storm I-5 in winter?"
"You used to work in Utah? I'm thinking about moving to Salt Lake City. Are the Mormons very cliqueish?"
"Channel 11 is much more friendly to my husband so he's willing to meet them for interviews about what he's doing for the state. Reducing the budget will be one of his main focuses this term."
"I used to have to hold the antenna up when my father wanted to watch Channel 19 to get the local news."
"Are you the car dealer?"
"I know your father. He used to have an account at my bank. Does he still have that bungalow his grandparents built in Florida in the 1950s?"
"Yes, I'm still involved in Christmas tree sales. But I've got the pine pollen problem now. I drive the truck to pick up the trees and drop 'em off. I open the rear door and step back to let the rest of the Optimists unload 'em at the tree lot."
"Look! There's you and your wife on television wishing us a happy holiday."
"Yep, I can't get away from that, can I?"
"He normally received about 14,500 votes in the previous three elections but only about 12,500 at the last election. I got those 2,000 votes and they wanted to call it close!"
"My younger sister was the drum major in your class."
"My husband and I were at UT at the same time but we didn't meet until years later, after I was married."
"Your sister was my counselor at church camp in 1976. That's where my wife and I met two years earlier."
"When we were little kids I used to call her the Big Boop because she had a big behind. What was that, almost 50 years ago?"
"Shut up and get up on the floor and dance with me."
"I can't for very long. My arthritis is acting up."
"This is my ex-husband. Darling, do you still think I'm the best-looking one in here?"
"Well...maybe."
"Guess that's why you're my ex."
Thanks to Demetrice and Tony for setting up the arrangements, Ashley for her quick, efficient service at the Shack BBQ and Justin Michaels for the one-man band music.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The Week For Forgetting
In weeklong meditation and in the midst of familiar sights and sounds the conversations reaffirm the past like dreams recalled fondly.
Almost as if commas periods and spaces losetheirsignificance
Refrains.
Chorus.
Codas.
The same points assigned to goals and touchdowns.
As an adult I am left to choose which subcultural myths and legends to pass on magically and mystically.
Which ones to create from a blender of tales swirled together.
Miracles.
Wonders.
Heroes.
After all, what is the truth that makes sense to youth growing up out of pure ignorance?
Must life be bigger than life just because a child wants to know more than we do?
How do we keep traditions and let our children learn the secrets behind myths that contain mistakes that kicked off a subculture's perpetual traditiontelling?
Ask one to be one?
Or be happy in our ignornce (trusting in one's faith)?
I have no children so in my meditation I stay, not required to reveal myths or keep the flame of faith alive.
That is what the holiday meditation has taught me this year: not to interfere with happiness of others, no matter what they believe or talk about, because they have found the thought set based on a unique state of energy mix that works best for their environmental conditions.
May I find the humbleness to keep quiet in 2011 and focus on my lifelong journey toward death in a healthier body, reducing my consumption of food I don't need and goods I don't want.
I have communicated to anonymous readers the filtered thoughts that've found their way onto "paper" like this through the years.
The older I get, the more frequent does life break down into its component parts to me. Let the world have its myths, legends, religions, literary/sports heroes...
In a dream or vision, I saw us as our states of energy landing on an unidentifiable planetoid leaving our legacy in the form of a stowaway bacterial lifeform that survived after we perished, representing us to other lifeforms passing by on the way to what we imagine is another universe [thousands or millions of years later than today?].
Hardly a high-volume, marketable product, is it?
Now you know why I seek to silence my voice in the future.
There is nothing more I can add to our multicultural global socioeconomopolitical entity we call our species in this solar system.
I wanted more knowledge about what will become of us and got what I asked for. Early happy Christmas to me, huh?
In this season when we find our own way to celebrate the renewal of life as seen from the Northern Hemisphere, I bid you good day.
My time with you here has come to a close. The Committee of 7.5 is looking for a new spokesperson, if you're interested in an impossible job to perform (it comes with no description, no pay, no perks/bonuses and very picky bosses to satisfy (as well as seven billion customers with seven billion different needs!) but it's a lot of fun as long as you want to keep the job).
Almost as if commas periods and spaces losetheirsignificance
Refrains.
Chorus.
Codas.
The same points assigned to goals and touchdowns.
As an adult I am left to choose which subcultural myths and legends to pass on magically and mystically.
Which ones to create from a blender of tales swirled together.
Miracles.
Wonders.
Heroes.
After all, what is the truth that makes sense to youth growing up out of pure ignorance?
Must life be bigger than life just because a child wants to know more than we do?
How do we keep traditions and let our children learn the secrets behind myths that contain mistakes that kicked off a subculture's perpetual traditiontelling?
Ask one to be one?
Or be happy in our ignornce (trusting in one's faith)?
I have no children so in my meditation I stay, not required to reveal myths or keep the flame of faith alive.
That is what the holiday meditation has taught me this year: not to interfere with happiness of others, no matter what they believe or talk about, because they have found the thought set based on a unique state of energy mix that works best for their environmental conditions.
May I find the humbleness to keep quiet in 2011 and focus on my lifelong journey toward death in a healthier body, reducing my consumption of food I don't need and goods I don't want.
I have communicated to anonymous readers the filtered thoughts that've found their way onto "paper" like this through the years.
The older I get, the more frequent does life break down into its component parts to me. Let the world have its myths, legends, religions, literary/sports heroes...
In a dream or vision, I saw us as our states of energy landing on an unidentifiable planetoid leaving our legacy in the form of a stowaway bacterial lifeform that survived after we perished, representing us to other lifeforms passing by on the way to what we imagine is another universe [thousands or millions of years later than today?].
Hardly a high-volume, marketable product, is it?
Now you know why I seek to silence my voice in the future.
There is nothing more I can add to our multicultural global socioeconomopolitical entity we call our species in this solar system.
I wanted more knowledge about what will become of us and got what I asked for. Early happy Christmas to me, huh?
In this season when we find our own way to celebrate the renewal of life as seen from the Northern Hemisphere, I bid you good day.
My time with you here has come to a close. The Committee of 7.5 is looking for a new spokesperson, if you're interested in an impossible job to perform (it comes with no description, no pay, no perks/bonuses and very picky bosses to satisfy (as well as seven billion customers with seven billion different needs!) but it's a lot of fun as long as you want to keep the job).
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
A 'Naut Out On The Town
I read that 91 percent of Americans are not offended by the phrase, "Mery Christmas."
The windowed reflection of a white-painted light bulb excites the rods and cones in my eyes, my central nervous system registering the chain of cause-and-effect events.
Coloured LEDs divert my attention to their combined conical shaping.
This is the wintry end of the year holiday timeframe I remember here in space.
I wanted to be called someting cool like 'Naut Rider or Dread 'Naut but the legal team back on Earth told me those names had copyright and trademark histories to contend with.
Instead, I'm a 'naut without a name.
I grow my own miniature, energy-packed vegetables. Protein packs are mixed and matched to my specific needs by the robonutritionist with which (not whom?) I converse through the train-of-thought app I switch on and off at will.
I thought that maintaining these giant soda-can habitat modules would give me cabin fever but the solar glider I built from old parts gives me the relaxing off-duty fun I used to have when living in the high-rise subbasement family prison farm with my incarcerated parents.
Today is one of the holidays of my varied ancestors.
Today I pray for Stella as she deals with Christmas without several recently-deceased family members; my hometown church's Scoutmaster, whose home burnt down during a recent ice/snow storm; those who spend Christmas in prison; the nine percent who are offended by a family-friendly commercialised holiday celebration around winter solstice.
At this time of year, while replacing carbon dioxide filtering systems before the next set of space hotel guests arrives, I promise myself no regrets, no envy and no cynicism as gifts of promise and hope to myself, replacing them with more happiness.
The windowed reflection of a white-painted light bulb excites the rods and cones in my eyes, my central nervous system registering the chain of cause-and-effect events.
Coloured LEDs divert my attention to their combined conical shaping.
This is the wintry end of the year holiday timeframe I remember here in space.
I wanted to be called someting cool like 'Naut Rider or Dread 'Naut but the legal team back on Earth told me those names had copyright and trademark histories to contend with.
Instead, I'm a 'naut without a name.
I grow my own miniature, energy-packed vegetables. Protein packs are mixed and matched to my specific needs by the robonutritionist with which (not whom?) I converse through the train-of-thought app I switch on and off at will.
I thought that maintaining these giant soda-can habitat modules would give me cabin fever but the solar glider I built from old parts gives me the relaxing off-duty fun I used to have when living in the high-rise subbasement family prison farm with my incarcerated parents.
Today is one of the holidays of my varied ancestors.
Today I pray for Stella as she deals with Christmas without several recently-deceased family members; my hometown church's Scoutmaster, whose home burnt down during a recent ice/snow storm; those who spend Christmas in prison; the nine percent who are offended by a family-friendly commercialised holiday celebration around winter solstice.
At this time of year, while replacing carbon dioxide filtering systems before the next set of space hotel guests arrives, I promise myself no regrets, no envy and no cynicism as gifts of promise and hope to myself, replacing them with more happiness.
Monday, December 20, 2010
On Meditation
Sitting here is humbling. To be alive at the same time as about seven billion members of our species is all any of us can be.
Fruitarians, carnivores and omnivores converting states of energy.
Chemical bonds. Disconnected theories of everything.
Seven billion blind trying to describe the elephant in the living room.
Sightless and yet having the gift of sight.
Surfing the crests down to the troughs and over the boughs while tying bows of infinite loops on ships' bows.
Spare time to change the spare tyre.
Independent third parties.
Furniture polish.
Kimonos over cowboy boots.
TransSiberian Chinese highspeed rails.
Genuine high quality Cuban cigars.
If birds are free to fly 'round the world, why aren't we?
Happy that the Amis Mill Eatery will have a wonderful New Year's Eve and New Year's Day celebration; that Arby's serves roasted rather than fried beef; that Food City is still a hometown favourite; that integrity is still an important concept to young people; that dreams are enigmas sometimes.
Fortunate that one can enjoy simple pleasures without the need for reading subtle body language or cynic tones clouding the moment.
Overcoming the predator-prey dilemma to get us out of the materialistic envy cycle and on to the next really, really great thing.
One planet at a time.
[Starting with ours, of course.]
Are you committed to victory for all of us? You are now.
Fruitarians, carnivores and omnivores converting states of energy.
Chemical bonds. Disconnected theories of everything.
Seven billion blind trying to describe the elephant in the living room.
Sightless and yet having the gift of sight.
Surfing the crests down to the troughs and over the boughs while tying bows of infinite loops on ships' bows.
Spare time to change the spare tyre.
Independent third parties.
Furniture polish.
Kimonos over cowboy boots.
TransSiberian Chinese highspeed rails.
Genuine high quality Cuban cigars.
If birds are free to fly 'round the world, why aren't we?
Happy that the Amis Mill Eatery will have a wonderful New Year's Eve and New Year's Day celebration; that Arby's serves roasted rather than fried beef; that Food City is still a hometown favourite; that integrity is still an important concept to young people; that dreams are enigmas sometimes.
Fortunate that one can enjoy simple pleasures without the need for reading subtle body language or cynic tones clouding the moment.
Overcoming the predator-prey dilemma to get us out of the materialistic envy cycle and on to the next really, really great thing.
One planet at a time.
[Starting with ours, of course.]
Are you committed to victory for all of us? You are now.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
...as waters cover the sea
While I meditate, I enjoy the gift of service that others freely, joyously, unselfishly share with me this time of year:
Patricia Rhoton, Pastor White, Afton Stewart, Rebecca George, Rex Ennis, David White, Andrea White, Madison Price, Bill Phillips, Earline Price, William Phillips, Mary Ellen Elkins, Sarah Klepper LeRoy, Tammy Lyons, Terry George, Chad Hill, Chancel Choir, St. Andrew's Choir, Higher Sounds Handbells, ushers and Sue Livesay.
The Joy Gift Service of Nine Lessons and Carols.
Flutes like angels singing in the balcony. Violin and piano duet like a heavenly stream or waterfall. Rearranged hymns. Solos that go so low and so high, I'm flushed with envy.
Raising money for the Christmas Joy Offering, 50 percent which goes to the Presbyterian Board of Pensions and 50 percent which goes to the Presbyterian racial ethnic schools and colleges (per the General Assembly Mission Council handout).
Teaching traditions.
Christmas versus/and other family-based holidays.
Sometimes, caught up in the noise and haste of modern life, I forget that family and friends are all that matters.
That's why these moments of meditation are important.
Otherwise, I'd get lost in the international games we play, that move millions and billions around like faceless chips on a gambling table.
We can still do that, but let's get to know each other before we take risks with our neighbours' lives.
Let us pray...
Patricia Rhoton, Pastor White, Afton Stewart, Rebecca George, Rex Ennis, David White, Andrea White, Madison Price, Bill Phillips, Earline Price, William Phillips, Mary Ellen Elkins, Sarah Klepper LeRoy, Tammy Lyons, Terry George, Chad Hill, Chancel Choir, St. Andrew's Choir, Higher Sounds Handbells, ushers and Sue Livesay.
The Joy Gift Service of Nine Lessons and Carols.
Flutes like angels singing in the balcony. Violin and piano duet like a heavenly stream or waterfall. Rearranged hymns. Solos that go so low and so high, I'm flushed with envy.
Raising money for the Christmas Joy Offering, 50 percent which goes to the Presbyterian Board of Pensions and 50 percent which goes to the Presbyterian racial ethnic schools and colleges (per the General Assembly Mission Council handout).
Teaching traditions.
Christmas versus/and other family-based holidays.
Sometimes, caught up in the noise and haste of modern life, I forget that family and friends are all that matters.
That's why these moments of meditation are important.
Otherwise, I'd get lost in the international games we play, that move millions and billions around like faceless chips on a gambling table.
We can still do that, but let's get to know each other before we take risks with our neighbours' lives.
Let us pray...
Saturday, December 18, 2010
2 spoons & 1 fork
If a black cat crosses your path and you don't know it, is it still bad luck?
Does anybody remember Frank O'Rourke?
What do a toilet handle and cat food have in common?
Thanks to: Debra and other friendly faces at VBC; Gully's team of Santa's elves; Andrea P at Cuts By Us; Amp at Red Robin; Petsmart; Jon at Rave; all the workers at Madison Square Mall, Hobby Lobby, Hibbett's, and the stores in the old Hills shopping center; the scared cashier at Walmart gas station; U.S. Special Forces; studious college students, friends and family.
Time to meditate offline for a few days.
Much to consider...
Does anybody remember Frank O'Rourke?
What do a toilet handle and cat food have in common?
Thanks to: Debra and other friendly faces at VBC; Gully's team of Santa's elves; Andrea P at Cuts By Us; Amp at Red Robin; Petsmart; Jon at Rave; all the workers at Madison Square Mall, Hobby Lobby, Hibbett's, and the stores in the old Hills shopping center; the scared cashier at Walmart gas station; U.S. Special Forces; studious college students, friends and family.
Time to meditate offline for a few days.
Much to consider...
litter stock ack
Are you a remake or a sequel?
Don't all of us have that question to answer?
Are we following in our parents' footsteps or creating a new path?
My thought set leans against others constantly, absorbing through porous contacts the thoughts and actions of those around me.
Sometimes I'm fully aware of why I do what I do that seems [to be] in sync with others, and sometimes I'm barely aware why I act out a sequence of events that I would not normally perform if I was away from the mainstream.
To put myself out there all the time, loving everyone without qualification, no limits, like there is no next moment, seeing all they want me and don't want me to see, puts off some people.
It's like a river running into a boulder or bend in the landscape, flowing along anyway, changing course to fit the immovable channel contour presented to it.
There's more I want to say but I can't.
I've encountered a dam.
Now what do I do next?
There's a lot of land that's going to be flooded behind the dam. I know that much.
Go with the flow, be the flow, pull others along with you.
Pile up behind obstacles.
And then...?
Dark, still waters circulating around, leaving sediment, feeding new organisms, the potential of potential energy finding its potential.
The circle of life, sequels and remakes, alloneandnone.
Monica in Florida, John in Rhode Island and me here - is that the result of our friendship together many years ago? Are there vectors and traced rays and concentric circles radiating out from the pebbles we threw?
What if we know what we have before it is gone?
I don't see storylines like a young person sees for the very first time, although I try to see the world with childlike wonder.
Is that wisdom?
I forget.
Does seeing Venus in the daytime make me anything other than an object that can recall on a firsthand basis seeing Venus in the daytime?
Should my only guiding thought be "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"?
A doo-boppa doo-wop, a biddy bang bong.
Another riff on words in a blog.
That's all this ever was and ever will be.
What life is ultimately all about.
Easy to say, harder to explain: everything goes in a circle, reality is only seven letters.
We learned the words when we were just kids: "Row, row, row your boat...life is but a dream."
Don't all of us have that question to answer?
Are we following in our parents' footsteps or creating a new path?
My thought set leans against others constantly, absorbing through porous contacts the thoughts and actions of those around me.
Sometimes I'm fully aware of why I do what I do that seems [to be] in sync with others, and sometimes I'm barely aware why I act out a sequence of events that I would not normally perform if I was away from the mainstream.
To put myself out there all the time, loving everyone without qualification, no limits, like there is no next moment, seeing all they want me and don't want me to see, puts off some people.
It's like a river running into a boulder or bend in the landscape, flowing along anyway, changing course to fit the immovable channel contour presented to it.
There's more I want to say but I can't.
I've encountered a dam.
Now what do I do next?
There's a lot of land that's going to be flooded behind the dam. I know that much.
Go with the flow, be the flow, pull others along with you.
Pile up behind obstacles.
And then...?
Dark, still waters circulating around, leaving sediment, feeding new organisms, the potential of potential energy finding its potential.
The circle of life, sequels and remakes, alloneandnone.
Monica in Florida, John in Rhode Island and me here - is that the result of our friendship together many years ago? Are there vectors and traced rays and concentric circles radiating out from the pebbles we threw?
What if we know what we have before it is gone?
I don't see storylines like a young person sees for the very first time, although I try to see the world with childlike wonder.
Is that wisdom?
I forget.
Does seeing Venus in the daytime make me anything other than an object that can recall on a firsthand basis seeing Venus in the daytime?
Should my only guiding thought be "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"?
A doo-boppa doo-wop, a biddy bang bong.
Another riff on words in a blog.
That's all this ever was and ever will be.
What life is ultimately all about.
Easy to say, harder to explain: everything goes in a circle, reality is only seven letters.
We learned the words when we were just kids: "Row, row, row your boat...life is but a dream."
Glitter
Cardstock
Stack
Friday, December 17, 2010
My Grain Headache - Cutting A Deal
Have you ever shot an arrow from an orbiting space platform?
You see, my marketing staff is busy compiling all the activities you can, you shouldn't, you must and you can't do while working/playing in a space hotel.
After all, it won't be long before dozens and then hundreds of people will enjoy one another's company in the spartan luxury high in the Earth's atmosphere.
Including, of course, support staff.
Now, as most of you know who've worked in the support industry, there's downtime to consider.
Some support staff will fly with their guests while others will stay onboard to maintain continuity and fix stuff that inevitably breaks.
So, with that in mind, my marketing staff wants to define leisure activities that'll appeal to people in between periods of work and sleep.
Of course, we're using all the latest tech-savvy tools to figure out what we need to design and test over the next few years.
We'll keep you posted.
You see, my marketing staff is busy compiling all the activities you can, you shouldn't, you must and you can't do while working/playing in a space hotel.
After all, it won't be long before dozens and then hundreds of people will enjoy one another's company in the spartan luxury high in the Earth's atmosphere.
Including, of course, support staff.
Now, as most of you know who've worked in the support industry, there's downtime to consider.
Some support staff will fly with their guests while others will stay onboard to maintain continuity and fix stuff that inevitably breaks.
So, with that in mind, my marketing staff wants to define leisure activities that'll appeal to people in between periods of work and sleep.
Of course, we're using all the latest tech-savvy tools to figure out what we need to design and test over the next few years.
We'll keep you posted.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Dancing and Romancing
Christabel and the Jons Christmas Show
featuring the Actors Co-op! Including Stephen M. Dupree, Amy Leigh Hubbard and Kimberly Pettigrew.
At Lowe Mill (where else?)
Christa DeCicco, Seth Hopper, Jon Whitlock and Vince Ilagan brought a little bit of holiday cheer to the cheering crowd in the Flying Monkey Theatre in Huntsville, Alabama, earlier this evening.
Described as "all Christmas music, staged like 'Prairie Home Companion' or an old-time television holiday special," the band and the band of actors banded together to bandy back and forth.
Letters to Santa read from large scrolls.
Classic Christmas tunes.
All we needed was a little snow.
Voila! Foam snowballs flew across the dance floor as couples spun around like swingin' skaters on a frozen pond.
Favorite lyrics:
"Biscuits and gravy, mashed potatoes,Memorable sights: a father dancing with his newborn infant, Santa (Stephen) in a duet of "Baby, It's Cold Outside" with Christa, Seth playing muted trumpet, hopping couples waltzing in 6/8 time, Jon and Vince getting their solos; Amy and Kimberly singing backup.
Put some pepper on those fried green tomatoes;
I haven't seen you in ages."
Thanks to tonight's organisers; ticket taker; food sales; lighting/sound technician; Bushmills flask; Fred Bread; a late thanks to Shrestha at Surin.
Like the performers tonight, I can't wait to get back to Tennessee. Hope Christa gets another guitar tuner and lipstick soon...and that she can always find a way to make herself happy (and/or make music).
Flue with Flu
Friends tell me you can't change human nature so why I am observing and commenting on our activities as if they're correctable, my friends can't say.
A cat is a cat.
A living thing is a living thing.
Instead, my friends want me to focus on marketable, profitable stuff with which they can work their sales magic.
All for what?
So Jay Leno can treat women like whores and Pat Sajak can stare at his contestants' breasts?
Maybe today I shouldn't observe our culture, ignoring subtle hints about impeachable futures and false wargame threats, when I am in a mood for the quiet absence of cultural stimuli, away from barking dogs, billboards and mechanistic sounds (i.e., a constrictive headache narrows my view).
I forget many a day what the instant gratification of cultural interaction does to one's thought sets floating in a neurochemical bath of glandular animal magnetism.
To have one's inner eye pointed toward a far-away future is not nearly as exciting as living in the moment.
What if my friends are right and one moment is the same as another except for symbol set members?
Everyone has a valid opinion that can oppose the facts.
Am I right about the transformation of our species over the next thousand years or are my friends right and our civilisation is going to collapse in on itself as it always has, the survivors picking up the pieces and making the same mistakes again but in a new language, using new symbology/vocabulary to justify their version of the truth?
Either way, getting some members of our species off this planet is of prime importance.
The cheaper the method of achieving escape velocity, the more resources we have for finding/founding a new home.
I can spend my time here analysing the story not being told by the words and actions of "judges" on an a capella contest (of course, you know, as well as the show's producers and judges, that U.S. Southerners are statistically more likely to win these types of U.S.-based shows) or I can keep looking up at the big picture.
I choose the latter.
Time, once again, to make our space adventures more attractive, more seductive (yes, that means to the brain) and less pedestrian than, but still familiar to, our life on the home planet.
If our species is going to be the same, let's give ourselves more room to play at being responsible for our future together!
Remember that epic novel I was working on with its universal language/code? Turns out, as I may have told some of you, it is not directly translatable into our written/spoken languages. It can be described, though, like an exchange of states of energy in chemical/physical terms.
Are you willing to deprogram yourself and shed your hereditary cultural self in order to move into the realm of "states of energy" speak...don't get too excited just yet. Food for thought for now.
The rest of us are still getting excited about short jaunts into the outer reaches of Earth's natural attraction. After your ride into space, don't forget to stop in the gift shop and take home some souvenirs that'll be valuable memorabilia to future generations!
It's good to retrace the outline of my sole reason for being here even if the universe waits for no one to discover and reveal its many wonders.
A cat is a cat.
A living thing is a living thing.
Instead, my friends want me to focus on marketable, profitable stuff with which they can work their sales magic.
All for what?
So Jay Leno can treat women like whores and Pat Sajak can stare at his contestants' breasts?
Maybe today I shouldn't observe our culture, ignoring subtle hints about impeachable futures and false wargame threats, when I am in a mood for the quiet absence of cultural stimuli, away from barking dogs, billboards and mechanistic sounds (i.e., a constrictive headache narrows my view).
I forget many a day what the instant gratification of cultural interaction does to one's thought sets floating in a neurochemical bath of glandular animal magnetism.
To have one's inner eye pointed toward a far-away future is not nearly as exciting as living in the moment.
What if my friends are right and one moment is the same as another except for symbol set members?
Everyone has a valid opinion that can oppose the facts.
Am I right about the transformation of our species over the next thousand years or are my friends right and our civilisation is going to collapse in on itself as it always has, the survivors picking up the pieces and making the same mistakes again but in a new language, using new symbology/vocabulary to justify their version of the truth?
Either way, getting some members of our species off this planet is of prime importance.
The cheaper the method of achieving escape velocity, the more resources we have for finding/founding a new home.
I can spend my time here analysing the story not being told by the words and actions of "judges" on an a capella contest (of course, you know, as well as the show's producers and judges, that U.S. Southerners are statistically more likely to win these types of U.S.-based shows) or I can keep looking up at the big picture.
I choose the latter.
Time, once again, to make our space adventures more attractive, more seductive (yes, that means to the brain) and less pedestrian than, but still familiar to, our life on the home planet.
If our species is going to be the same, let's give ourselves more room to play at being responsible for our future together!
Remember that epic novel I was working on with its universal language/code? Turns out, as I may have told some of you, it is not directly translatable into our written/spoken languages. It can be described, though, like an exchange of states of energy in chemical/physical terms.
Are you willing to deprogram yourself and shed your hereditary cultural self in order to move into the realm of "states of energy" speak...don't get too excited just yet. Food for thought for now.
The rest of us are still getting excited about short jaunts into the outer reaches of Earth's natural attraction. After your ride into space, don't forget to stop in the gift shop and take home some souvenirs that'll be valuable memorabilia to future generations!
It's good to retrace the outline of my sole reason for being here even if the universe waits for no one to discover and reveal its many wonders.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Local Digital Statistical Logistical
Again, where is your value added?:
Whose trade tradeoff is on or based off
Times of the Signs
Best holiday idea for 2010:
Visited a friends' house - to make holiday cleanup easier this year, our friends have placed their wired, clear plastic storage container of ornaments on the floor, plugged it in and placed their gifts on top. The top view of the container's arrangement of ornaments will be revealed as they hand out and open the family holiday presents (the presents put inside prewrapped, hinged gift boxes that can be reused every year).
The storage container also serves as their post gift-opening holiday dinner buffet table.
When the holidays are over, they'll unplug the container and put it back in the attic along with the reusable gift boxes.
Lazy?
No, just a typical geeky engineering couple looking for many ways to hack the holidays and optimise their time.
Visited a friends' house - to make holiday cleanup easier this year, our friends have placed their wired, clear plastic storage container of ornaments on the floor, plugged it in and placed their gifts on top. The top view of the container's arrangement of ornaments will be revealed as they hand out and open the family holiday presents (the presents put inside prewrapped, hinged gift boxes that can be reused every year).
The storage container also serves as their post gift-opening holiday dinner buffet table.
When the holidays are over, they'll unplug the container and put it back in the attic along with the reusable gift boxes.
Lazy?
No, just a typical geeky engineering couple looking for many ways to hack the holidays and optimise their time.
Conspiracists in an uproar!
In more news "leaked" for your contemplative pleasure, the world governments admitted they have been tracking all their citizens for years now, using both external GPS tracking devices (including GPS units for cars, running, biking, mobile phones, etc.) and organic GPS units using plasma antennas implanted in citizens while they were sleeping.
Antigovernment activists tore down all the mobile phone towers today and tomorrow they plan to launch private rockets to take down all satellites orbiting Earth.
The crew of the ISS was put on 24-hour alert.
Thank goodness, the robots on Mars, satellites circling other planets and platforms exploring the solar system (but actually parked in space for this very scenario) are unreachable by average citizens, organized or not.
Scientists are trying to determine if the hidden government that runs our species (a subordinate subcommittee secretly commissioned but not authorised by the Committee of 7.5) can still operate a group of seven billion people without knowing their precise whereabouts.
Meanwhile, sales of anti-GPS signal suits have put the Kinect, Black Ops and other personal consumables into the low sales category by comparison.
Our network of amateur journalists on the scene will bring more exciting news to you as it happens.
Now you know why there is a group opposed to circumcision at birth - they know it is a cover to implant tracking devices that also detect when males are attempting to illegally reproduce (apparently, a variation in the GPS signal can show whether condoms are being used or a vasectomy was performed in the past; sorry, eunuchs, you're being tracked, too).
Our governments will not rest until all members of our species are under safe control for their secure future.
We'll let you know when more documents reveal where your taxes are being spent to aid in your pursuit of happiness!
Antigovernment activists tore down all the mobile phone towers today and tomorrow they plan to launch private rockets to take down all satellites orbiting Earth.
The crew of the ISS was put on 24-hour alert.
Thank goodness, the robots on Mars, satellites circling other planets and platforms exploring the solar system (but actually parked in space for this very scenario) are unreachable by average citizens, organized or not.
Scientists are trying to determine if the hidden government that runs our species (a subordinate subcommittee secretly commissioned but not authorised by the Committee of 7.5) can still operate a group of seven billion people without knowing their precise whereabouts.
Meanwhile, sales of anti-GPS signal suits have put the Kinect, Black Ops and other personal consumables into the low sales category by comparison.
Our network of amateur journalists on the scene will bring more exciting news to you as it happens.
Now you know why there is a group opposed to circumcision at birth - they know it is a cover to implant tracking devices that also detect when males are attempting to illegally reproduce (apparently, a variation in the GPS signal can show whether condoms are being used or a vasectomy was performed in the past; sorry, eunuchs, you're being tracked, too).
Our governments will not rest until all members of our species are under safe control for their secure future.
We'll let you know when more documents reveal where your taxes are being spent to aid in your pursuit of happiness!
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Taco Bell and Soap Operas
I wish I had...
I am thankful for the body I have but wish I had developed better memorisation habits earlier in my life.
I wish I could thank a person I no longer remember. Sometime, a while back, I recall a person comparing fastfood chains to soap operas, in that, on a regular basis, you create a new "menu" item [storyline] with a limited set of ingredients [actors] to keep customers coming back.
Have I ever eaten the evil twin of a taco, though?
What burrito has betrayed its brother by cheating on my nachos?
= = = = =
On a separate but repetitive note, are we learning the true lesson from the exposed inner workings of the U.S. government, including the wikiworks and the Nixon tapes?
That is, are we aware that public figures have private thoughts they are willing to share with other public figures privately?
I am reminded of Milan Kundera and some of his observations on eavesdropping and such - if we do not allow each other to express thoughts and ideas, either ours or those of others we pick up along the way, verbally, in writing, in whatever way we can, to ourselves and to others, then we set up society for unhappy futures, unable to flush out caustic, contentious cynicism through constant conversation.
Thanks to the folks at the courthouse who make paying annual property tax a smooth, painless process; Jalissa T at Steak-Out; the workers behind the scenes at CCI, but especially Shelley and Dr. Mathews; the growers, harvesters and distributors of the cut oatmeal I eat every day; Dr. Selkin for giving me the view to the stars without the aid of prescription eyeglasses so I could watch meteors and Venus in the wee hours this morning; the team that picks up my trash at the road weekly; the post office service for guaranteed delivery of daily mail; those who appreciate my writing for the sarcasm and irony that it attempts to be (most of the time).
I am who I am and because of who I am, I am going to work on a lengthy short story for a while and lay down this electronic blogging pen.
Until next time...
Have you ever wondered about the living beings, anywhere, not just on this planet, being clueless about what living is, and just because they can travel [what appears to be] great distances doesn't mean they've accumulated the same set of knowledge we have? An automatically migrating set of states of energy (think monarch butterfly or crane) using this planet as a stop along the way to reproductive "wintering" grounds at another location in what we think of as a another dimension?
Many people have wondered about that. I'm going to explore the thoughts of those people in my short story and see where the story ends up.
The Committee of 7.5 will have to wait!
I am thankful for the body I have but wish I had developed better memorisation habits earlier in my life.
I wish I could thank a person I no longer remember. Sometime, a while back, I recall a person comparing fastfood chains to soap operas, in that, on a regular basis, you create a new "menu" item [storyline] with a limited set of ingredients [actors] to keep customers coming back.
Have I ever eaten the evil twin of a taco, though?
What burrito has betrayed its brother by cheating on my nachos?
= = = = =
On a separate but repetitive note, are we learning the true lesson from the exposed inner workings of the U.S. government, including the wikiworks and the Nixon tapes?
That is, are we aware that public figures have private thoughts they are willing to share with other public figures privately?
I am reminded of Milan Kundera and some of his observations on eavesdropping and such - if we do not allow each other to express thoughts and ideas, either ours or those of others we pick up along the way, verbally, in writing, in whatever way we can, to ourselves and to others, then we set up society for unhappy futures, unable to flush out caustic, contentious cynicism through constant conversation.
Thanks to the folks at the courthouse who make paying annual property tax a smooth, painless process; Jalissa T at Steak-Out; the workers behind the scenes at CCI, but especially Shelley and Dr. Mathews; the growers, harvesters and distributors of the cut oatmeal I eat every day; Dr. Selkin for giving me the view to the stars without the aid of prescription eyeglasses so I could watch meteors and Venus in the wee hours this morning; the team that picks up my trash at the road weekly; the post office service for guaranteed delivery of daily mail; those who appreciate my writing for the sarcasm and irony that it attempts to be (most of the time).
I am who I am and because of who I am, I am going to work on a lengthy short story for a while and lay down this electronic blogging pen.
Until next time...
Have you ever wondered about the living beings, anywhere, not just on this planet, being clueless about what living is, and just because they can travel [what appears to be] great distances doesn't mean they've accumulated the same set of knowledge we have? An automatically migrating set of states of energy (think monarch butterfly or crane) using this planet as a stop along the way to reproductive "wintering" grounds at another location in what we think of as a another dimension?
Many people have wondered about that. I'm going to explore the thoughts of those people in my short story and see where the story ends up.
The Committee of 7.5 will have to wait!
Monday, December 13, 2010
Kid Grows Up
A long time ago in a village of the hills of Tennessee, a bunch of young people found time in their daily academic schedule to put on some primary school stage musicals.
One of them, Keith Cate, anchored his career in Florida years ago and spent a few minutes with the Prez today.
My, oh my, how times fly by!
Was it that long ago I was the wise senior / drama club president and Keith the new sophomore kid on the block?
Thirty years later, we're still making memories...
Now what about that omnipotent anti/pro-tax bill facing Congress that's going to be memorable, if we're lucky? In 30 years, will we remember it more than this week's Iranian cabinet change?
One of them, Keith Cate, anchored his career in Florida years ago and spent a few minutes with the Prez today.
My, oh my, how times fly by!
Was it that long ago I was the wise senior / drama club president and Keith the new sophomore kid on the block?
Thirty years later, we're still making memories...
Now what about that omnipotent anti/pro-tax bill facing Congress that's going to be memorable, if we're lucky? In 30 years, will we remember it more than this week's Iranian cabinet change?
Guidance Counselor
We test and tweak and tear apart.
Setting up the initiating points and fuzzy, general areas where we want the second part of the current phase to appear as if it appeared apparitionally, we planted GPS tracking devices on vehicles and personages (some in parsonages).
The data from these devices help us determine the types of personalities likely to react rather than act, act without requiring reaction, or wait for something that will never appear/happen.
Vehicles, for example: a Camry with tag 97931AY that speeds up and follows a faster driver; an auto with tag S 2137A, acting as if on official business while disobeying posted limits, creating a chain of events no one will ever connect, despite historical significance.
Persons: the shopper who was allowed to swap price tags and will be called on to betray family/friends; the person who anonymously cleaned a disabled elder's house and will be duly rewarded anonymously to improve general economic conditions.
We can get seduced into believing our effect on the future and forget how to live right now.
"I told you so" is a phrase born out of narcissistic vanity.
Individuals do not exist. Every moment should teach us that all is all and nothing else.
We are the reflections of those who are reflecting those who reflect.
The phrase should be, "On further reflection..." and lead into one's secure place in family, subculture, culture and universe.
I believe I am me but I know better.
We carry one image of self augmented by constantly-changing extensions of self.
But self does not exist. It is many things, instead, but only one thing to those who think individually - may be a soul that belongs to heaven or hell; a temporary manifestation of a god's thought; states of energy.
We cannot erase seven billion thought sets but we can occasionally show the crowd the scaffolding and propaganda that creates the illusion of self within one's acceptable surroundings that one often believes is the true way to live.
Then, we go on from there together - attached to this planet for many more decades.
If the flow of water stopped, what would you do? If your monetary system suddenly disappeared, how would you exchange labour or investment credits for goods and services? If food was no longer available at any price, what would you be willing to eat?
What if one item fromabove was left and could feed one of two, would you sacrifice yourself or the other person?
Would you like to see how many of your daily actions lead to others being sacrificed for you?
Or how your death is the result of others sacrificing you?
Let's find out, shall we?
Maybe a universally-accessible database of tracking device info comparing the vehicle's actions to local laws as well as summary records of the driver's emotional conditions and level of paying attention to the road - daily offenders will be automatically cited and publicly arrested at inconvenient times in their lives.
Set examples for others.
Remove a few pebbles from disturbing the serenity of the pond.
No exceptions.
No more special privileges.
A small demonstration first...
Setting up the initiating points and fuzzy, general areas where we want the second part of the current phase to appear as if it appeared apparitionally, we planted GPS tracking devices on vehicles and personages (some in parsonages).
The data from these devices help us determine the types of personalities likely to react rather than act, act without requiring reaction, or wait for something that will never appear/happen.
Vehicles, for example: a Camry with tag 97931AY that speeds up and follows a faster driver; an auto with tag S 2137A, acting as if on official business while disobeying posted limits, creating a chain of events no one will ever connect, despite historical significance.
Persons: the shopper who was allowed to swap price tags and will be called on to betray family/friends; the person who anonymously cleaned a disabled elder's house and will be duly rewarded anonymously to improve general economic conditions.
We can get seduced into believing our effect on the future and forget how to live right now.
"I told you so" is a phrase born out of narcissistic vanity.
Individuals do not exist. Every moment should teach us that all is all and nothing else.
We are the reflections of those who are reflecting those who reflect.
The phrase should be, "On further reflection..." and lead into one's secure place in family, subculture, culture and universe.
I believe I am me but I know better.
We carry one image of self augmented by constantly-changing extensions of self.
But self does not exist. It is many things, instead, but only one thing to those who think individually - may be a soul that belongs to heaven or hell; a temporary manifestation of a god's thought; states of energy.
We cannot erase seven billion thought sets but we can occasionally show the crowd the scaffolding and propaganda that creates the illusion of self within one's acceptable surroundings that one often believes is the true way to live.
Then, we go on from there together - attached to this planet for many more decades.
If the flow of water stopped, what would you do? If your monetary system suddenly disappeared, how would you exchange labour or investment credits for goods and services? If food was no longer available at any price, what would you be willing to eat?
What if one item fromabove was left and could feed one of two, would you sacrifice yourself or the other person?
Would you like to see how many of your daily actions lead to others being sacrificed for you?
Or how your death is the result of others sacrificing you?
Let's find out, shall we?
Maybe a universally-accessible database of tracking device info comparing the vehicle's actions to local laws as well as summary records of the driver's emotional conditions and level of paying attention to the road - daily offenders will be automatically cited and publicly arrested at inconvenient times in their lives.
Set examples for others.
Remove a few pebbles from disturbing the serenity of the pond.
No exceptions.
No more special privileges.
A small demonstration first...
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Staged Takeover
How tired we grow of others getting the credit.
You know, the groups which claim titles like the Italian Mafia, the Russian Mafia, the Jewish Mafia, the Gay Mafia, or La Familia.
There is and always will be one family to rule them all: the Redneck Mafia.
Every mob needs theme songs and troubadors to sing ballads retelling the conquests and family love sagas of old for future generations.
Thus, we rely on our compadres, The Three Redneck Tenors, to belch 'n' belt out the music of our subba-bubba couture.
Momma don' sing no bass in this ensemble.
Instead, the former circus ringmaster, Dinny "Colonel" McGuire, tamed the low notes and made them do his bidding as he tied together classic Christmas songs with redneck regalia about Edna Mae, newly widowed due to a woodchipper accident.
The three...no, make that two tenors and one baritone filled the air with the scent of Budweiser beer and the...
I interrupt the train of thought you had been followin' to ask you, "How many talents do you have?"
Is your cousin your male spouse and thus your "cusband"?
Can you sing like Luciano Pavarotti, Placido Domingo, Maria Callas or Leontyne Price? Maybe Lena Horne or the Celtic Women?
Are you a rocket engineer and a member of your local orchestra?
Listening to the classically-trained voices of Matthew Lord, Blake Davison and Alex Bumpas roll off one classic redneck joke after another and then bounce around on stage in duct-taped tennis shoes or high heels and skirt while singing three-part harmony...
Well, you might just know why my train of thought wandered.
Speaking of, "Downtown" Gordon Brown might just know what he's talking about, marshalling the U.S. to lead the light brigade (this time backed by a few battle-hardened battalions and naval battle groups!).
But I digress.
Thanks to the violinist, Allen Ames, and the rest of the band led by Craig Bohmler, choreography by Candace Evans, Lindsay Hilliard's portrayal of Edna Mae, complete with plum coverage (no, not plumage) in the dance of the sugarplum's fairy.
Working an audience is work, from gauging whether an audience will connect Dean Martin to Jimmy Dean to encouraging the crowd to see a squirrel as the chicken of the tree (as opposed to tuna as the chicken of the sea).
Well, that's all my uncharged Kindle battery will allow.
G'nite, y'all. I love all seven billion of ya, even if I feel like kickin' some of ya in the backsides sometimes, hopin' it knocks ya out of the doldrums and into some sense.
Now to make some cents the hard way, one newly enlightened customer at a time!
You know, the groups which claim titles like the Italian Mafia, the Russian Mafia, the Jewish Mafia, the Gay Mafia, or La Familia.
There is and always will be one family to rule them all: the Redneck Mafia.
Every mob needs theme songs and troubadors to sing ballads retelling the conquests and family love sagas of old for future generations.
Thus, we rely on our compadres, The Three Redneck Tenors, to belch 'n' belt out the music of our subba-bubba couture.
Momma don' sing no bass in this ensemble.
Instead, the former circus ringmaster, Dinny "Colonel" McGuire, tamed the low notes and made them do his bidding as he tied together classic Christmas songs with redneck regalia about Edna Mae, newly widowed due to a woodchipper accident.
The three...no, make that two tenors and one baritone filled the air with the scent of Budweiser beer and the...
I interrupt the train of thought you had been followin' to ask you, "How many talents do you have?"
Is your cousin your male spouse and thus your "cusband"?
Can you sing like Luciano Pavarotti, Placido Domingo, Maria Callas or Leontyne Price? Maybe Lena Horne or the Celtic Women?
Are you a rocket engineer and a member of your local orchestra?
Listening to the classically-trained voices of Matthew Lord, Blake Davison and Alex Bumpas roll off one classic redneck joke after another and then bounce around on stage in duct-taped tennis shoes or high heels and skirt while singing three-part harmony...
Well, you might just know why my train of thought wandered.
Speaking of, "Downtown" Gordon Brown might just know what he's talking about, marshalling the U.S. to lead the light brigade (this time backed by a few battle-hardened battalions and naval battle groups!).
But I digress.
Thanks to the violinist, Allen Ames, and the rest of the band led by Craig Bohmler, choreography by Candace Evans, Lindsay Hilliard's portrayal of Edna Mae, complete with plum coverage (no, not plumage) in the dance of the sugarplum's fairy.
Working an audience is work, from gauging whether an audience will connect Dean Martin to Jimmy Dean to encouraging the crowd to see a squirrel as the chicken of the tree (as opposed to tuna as the chicken of the sea).
Well, that's all my uncharged Kindle battery will allow.
G'nite, y'all. I love all seven billion of ya, even if I feel like kickin' some of ya in the backsides sometimes, hopin' it knocks ya out of the doldrums and into some sense.
Now to make some cents the hard way, one newly enlightened customer at a time!
Don't eat yellow snow?
If space travelers can consume recycled urine, then is it okay to consume quantities of bladder output "recycled" as frozen snow decoration?
The future is interesting and always descriptive. After all, what do fish encounter every day - past, present or future, particularly pluperfect participled?
Are more of your friends cartoon/TV characters than real people? Would you know or care if more of your friends in social media were fictional?
Some analysts say that our species is divided into the firstborn getting the spoils of the previous generation and everyone else fighting over what's left.
In other words, sibling rivalry.
Is life that simple to you?
Would you see the states of energy in totally different terms?
Are you ready to read the story of our lives that requires a...well, I'm not supposed to tell you right just yet.
You'll "see."
Is a Bitcoin equivalent part of that picture?
Transitionally, yes.
The future is interesting and always descriptive. After all, what do fish encounter every day - past, present or future, particularly pluperfect participled?
Are more of your friends cartoon/TV characters than real people? Would you know or care if more of your friends in social media were fictional?
Some analysts say that our species is divided into the firstborn getting the spoils of the previous generation and everyone else fighting over what's left.
In other words, sibling rivalry.
Is life that simple to you?
Would you see the states of energy in totally different terms?
Are you ready to read the story of our lives that requires a...well, I'm not supposed to tell you right just yet.
You'll "see."
Is a Bitcoin equivalent part of that picture?
Transitionally, yes.
You finish the lyrics:
My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of killing bees, to thee I plea!
Land where my fathers tried
To spread bad pesticide,
From every mountainside let toxins spring!
Now, back to your regularly scheduled Muzak lyrics...
Where's Rachel Carson's wisdom and Johnny Carson's humour when we need them?
Sweet land of killing bees, to thee I plea!
Land where my fathers tried
To spread bad pesticide,
From every mountainside let toxins spring!
Now, back to your regularly scheduled Muzak lyrics...
Where's Rachel Carson's wisdom and Johnny Carson's humour when we need them?
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Is Angelina Jolie the new Roger Moore of spy movies?
Remember those backwater years of James Bond movies when the caricature known as Roger Moore kept the franchise going? Nuff sed.
Imagine owning a cockatiel (or rather, it owning you) for 21 years, the bird turning little cardboard boxes into homes complete with chewed-out windows to stare at you.
Congrats to all the runners - the DNFs, winners and finishers - who ran the Rocket City Marathon course today; especially the ones who overcame personal adversity - pain, injury, etc. Relatively warm for this time of year just before the cold and rain/snow sweep through.
Good to see familiar faces in the Holiday Inn, including Abdul and other hotel employees, Kris and the ham radio operators/comm team/timekeepers, Virginia College students, emergency/police personnel and fellow food volunteers led by Jim.
Thanks to Publix, Brueggers, Dole and Atlanta Bread Company; runners' support/family; the person who said he's going to play Santa Claus early and give some of the leftover food to random homeless people.
Checked the Book of the Future this afternoon - a new forecast is almost ready for broadcast. Even I, as jaded as I am right now, can't believe what's going to happen next. Surprised? No. Basically amazed.
Oh, and a shoutout to UT.
Imagine owning a cockatiel (or rather, it owning you) for 21 years, the bird turning little cardboard boxes into homes complete with chewed-out windows to stare at you.
Congrats to all the runners - the DNFs, winners and finishers - who ran the Rocket City Marathon course today; especially the ones who overcame personal adversity - pain, injury, etc. Relatively warm for this time of year just before the cold and rain/snow sweep through.
Good to see familiar faces in the Holiday Inn, including Abdul and other hotel employees, Kris and the ham radio operators/comm team/timekeepers, Virginia College students, emergency/police personnel and fellow food volunteers led by Jim.
Thanks to Publix, Brueggers, Dole and Atlanta Bread Company; runners' support/family; the person who said he's going to play Santa Claus early and give some of the leftover food to random homeless people.
Checked the Book of the Future this afternoon - a new forecast is almost ready for broadcast. Even I, as jaded as I am right now, can't believe what's going to happen next. Surprised? No. Basically amazed.
Oh, and a shoutout to UT.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Portsmouth vs. Kittery?
Or Dover vs. Durham?
How about Strawbery Banke or interoperability testing near Newick's?
Who's bidin' his time until another road mishap?
A BCS championship coach, perhaps?
Devlin, McNally...like original football names of old.
Still, a lot more attendees at Dover orRockingham Loudon races.
Hmm...wonder why...
How about Strawbery Banke or interoperability testing near Newick's?
Who's bidin' his time until another road mishap?
A BCS championship coach, perhaps?
Devlin, McNally...like original football names of old.
Still, a lot more attendees at Dover or
Hmm...wonder why...
Transcript newly released...
"GW, I, as much as anyone associated with your father's administration, would like to say affirmatively, without hesitation, that we know what we don't know and there positively are chances that there are aren't any WOMD in Iraq."
"So, DR, you're saying there are no WOMD in Iraq?"
"DC, is that what I told GW?"
"Well...inasmuch as I never said I intentionally shot my colleague while hunting..."
"DC, are you saying that DR is saying that we are too weak to take Iraq unilaterally?"
"GW, what are you trying to say?"
"I don't know, DC. Seems to me you're the one with the daughter who's..."
"GW, I thought we agreed you wouldn't ask and I wouldn't tell. Isn't that right, DR?"
"Maybe GW's right, DC. Seems like it all started with the whole 'points of light' thing that GW's father started. Makes us look too touchy-feely to the Saudis."
"Haha, DR. That's a good one, knowing what we do about the Saudi royalty. 'Don't ask, don't tell.' Seems like if you pay off enough people, they do what they want."
"Speaking of which, GW, did we ever get paid back for that pilot training we funded?"
"DC, I told you, like Daddy said, 'read my lips,' we were never directly associated with the attacks on the WTC and the Pentagon."
"But the good guys we intentionally planted on the flight that crashed in Pennsylvania..."
"Never happened, DC. Isn't that right, DR?"
"There is no record and there never will be, of any facts to the contrary."
"Meaning what, exactly, DR?"
"GW, is it what I just said."
"DC, what did he just say?"
"What you said, GW."
"Which is?"
"Exactly."
"I see. And none of this is being recorded?"
"Precisely, GW."
"DR, does that mean it is or it isn't being recorded?"
"That's correct, GW. It is isn't being recorded."
"Very well. Let's talk more about my presidential library. I'd like 36 holes of legendary golf to encircle the building complex."
"Do you mean 36 legendary holes of golf, GW?"
"DR, why don't you go plot some output with CP or something? DC and I can handle this one ourselves."
"Yes, sir. I believe we can nab one of the Saddam Hussein lookalikes and let Saddam enjoy the rest of his retirement in..."
"DR, that's highly classified. Even GW doesn't know what you're talking about."
"Lips sealed. See you boys later."
"So, DR, you're saying there are no WOMD in Iraq?"
"DC, is that what I told GW?"
"Well...inasmuch as I never said I intentionally shot my colleague while hunting..."
"DC, are you saying that DR is saying that we are too weak to take Iraq unilaterally?"
"GW, what are you trying to say?"
"I don't know, DC. Seems to me you're the one with the daughter who's..."
"GW, I thought we agreed you wouldn't ask and I wouldn't tell. Isn't that right, DR?"
"Maybe GW's right, DC. Seems like it all started with the whole 'points of light' thing that GW's father started. Makes us look too touchy-feely to the Saudis."
"Haha, DR. That's a good one, knowing what we do about the Saudi royalty. 'Don't ask, don't tell.' Seems like if you pay off enough people, they do what they want."
"Speaking of which, GW, did we ever get paid back for that pilot training we funded?"
"DC, I told you, like Daddy said, 'read my lips,' we were never directly associated with the attacks on the WTC and the Pentagon."
"But the good guys we intentionally planted on the flight that crashed in Pennsylvania..."
"Never happened, DC. Isn't that right, DR?"
"There is no record and there never will be, of any facts to the contrary."
"Meaning what, exactly, DR?"
"GW, is it what I just said."
"DC, what did he just say?"
"What you said, GW."
"Which is?"
"Exactly."
"I see. And none of this is being recorded?"
"Precisely, GW."
"DR, does that mean it is or it isn't being recorded?"
"That's correct, GW. It is isn't being recorded."
"Very well. Let's talk more about my presidential library. I'd like 36 holes of legendary golf to encircle the building complex."
"Do you mean 36 legendary holes of golf, GW?"
"DR, why don't you go plot some output with CP or something? DC and I can handle this one ourselves."
"Yes, sir. I believe we can nab one of the Saddam Hussein lookalikes and let Saddam enjoy the rest of his retirement in..."
"DR, that's highly classified. Even GW doesn't know what you're talking about."
"Lips sealed. See you boys later."
You Can't Escape History But It Can Void Your Part
Talked with some old friends of mine recently.
One bemoaned the constant fact that the slipping disc in his back turned lovemaking into a tortuous contortionist's nightmare.
Another wondered if there was ever such a thing as innocence or just plain, ordinary ignorance disguised as such.
A leader in his field asked when executive leaders are not responsible for the actions of their subordinates, reminding us he keeps a plaque on his desk that states, "The buck stops here (although my lawyers will argue otherwise because I pay them to)."
The sports fanatic in the group observed that guys on sports shows have to wear suits and ties while the women only have to wear clinging, tight, unbuttoned blouses - "What's up with that?" he jokingly asked us, mocking outrage.
The news buff asked if we had heard the rumour that Sarkozy prefers to hang out with journalists accused of paedophilia. The Francophobe in our group said he was not surprised.
We talked about the best camo colour combination for hunting in the woods and debated whether one should be able to wear camo clothing to Christmas parties.
I commented that one part of socioeconomic growth depends on groups and individuals seeking status and privilege in the form of goods and services they or their families were taught to dream of and/or were deprived of in the past - such behaviour can lead to abnormal trends on the macro scale - therefore, how do we teach people to dream of the big picture? "Dream on," replied one friend raucously, "most people are sheep, easily pacified to enjoy their fenced-in lives."
Every one of us brought forth a product idea that was in its infancy, seeking advice about synergistic solutions that any of the other of us could add to the product's development.
Of course, we have no nondisclosure agreement (NDA) between us - our friendship suffices to hold our confidences within the group (even when we are disclosing to one another products that our companies are developing under NDA).
We know the truth about life - secrecy is for those who don't have trustworthy friends; trustworthy friends are the ones who will share your secrets (including your personal, narrowminded views about life) when it serves the big picture.
It feels good to gather with friends like that once in a while so we can assure ourselves we're willing to put up with a lot of the negative, abusive bashing that pretends to be news in order to get our message out, no matter how much it's buried in the noise.
Many thanks today: Shawn B at Hickory Farms; Angie and Laura at See's Candies; Edson (sp?) at Cafe Berlin; the unknown helpful people at Madison Square Mall (J.C. Penney), Parkway Place Mall (Belk, Hat Shack, Sports Mania, Dillard's, SEC Apparel Co., and mall kiosks) and fossil fuel stations (Fuel City).
One bemoaned the constant fact that the slipping disc in his back turned lovemaking into a tortuous contortionist's nightmare.
Another wondered if there was ever such a thing as innocence or just plain, ordinary ignorance disguised as such.
A leader in his field asked when executive leaders are not responsible for the actions of their subordinates, reminding us he keeps a plaque on his desk that states, "The buck stops here (although my lawyers will argue otherwise because I pay them to)."
The sports fanatic in the group observed that guys on sports shows have to wear suits and ties while the women only have to wear clinging, tight, unbuttoned blouses - "What's up with that?" he jokingly asked us, mocking outrage.
The news buff asked if we had heard the rumour that Sarkozy prefers to hang out with journalists accused of paedophilia. The Francophobe in our group said he was not surprised.
We talked about the best camo colour combination for hunting in the woods and debated whether one should be able to wear camo clothing to Christmas parties.
I commented that one part of socioeconomic growth depends on groups and individuals seeking status and privilege in the form of goods and services they or their families were taught to dream of and/or were deprived of in the past - such behaviour can lead to abnormal trends on the macro scale - therefore, how do we teach people to dream of the big picture? "Dream on," replied one friend raucously, "most people are sheep, easily pacified to enjoy their fenced-in lives."
Every one of us brought forth a product idea that was in its infancy, seeking advice about synergistic solutions that any of the other of us could add to the product's development.
Of course, we have no nondisclosure agreement (NDA) between us - our friendship suffices to hold our confidences within the group (even when we are disclosing to one another products that our companies are developing under NDA).
We know the truth about life - secrecy is for those who don't have trustworthy friends; trustworthy friends are the ones who will share your secrets (including your personal, narrowminded views about life) when it serves the big picture.
It feels good to gather with friends like that once in a while so we can assure ourselves we're willing to put up with a lot of the negative, abusive bashing that pretends to be news in order to get our message out, no matter how much it's buried in the noise.
Many thanks today: Shawn B at Hickory Farms; Angie and Laura at See's Candies; Edson (sp?) at Cafe Berlin; the unknown helpful people at Madison Square Mall (J.C. Penney), Parkway Place Mall (Belk, Hat Shack, Sports Mania, Dillard's, SEC Apparel Co., and mall kiosks) and fossil fuel stations (Fuel City).
RSVP
From the folks at the RendezVous353 site:
| There is a new Ireland to be imagined and worked for, a new kind of Ireland to build, and it is you who must build it | |
| In the Midst of all the confusion and noise that has engulfed our Country it is important to remember who we are and what we stand for ! We found this wonderful piece in the Irish Times by Theo Dorgan a poet. He spoke these words when addressing graduates of University College Cork at their winter onferrings . http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/opinion/2010/1209/1224285097285.html As you awake this morning or just about to go down take this postive piece with you. If you must go, then go with a full heart and high expectations of the world. Do not go in defeat, with regret, in loneliness. We live in one world now, infinitely various, full of undiscovered joys and surprises. Savour your lives and remember you have a nation still, a home to return to. When you come back, bring us what you have learned in the wide world as thousands of immigrants are already enriching us with the learning they bring to our homes and to our streets. Send us your visions and thoughts constantly, it’s what the technology is for. You will be elsewhere, not orphaned or cast out. You can elect, I hope you will elect, to remain a part of the national conversation, a part of our evolution towards a better life for all. We are no mean people, as Yeats said in another place, in another context. We have hearts and minds, we care for each other still, we have our dreams and in dreams, as the poet Delmore Schwartz once said, in dreams begin responsibilities. It falls to you, to your generation, to assume the responsibility of dreaming a new republic. This message is being sent to you because you or the author are a member of RendezVous353. |
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Metallic Cord
Thanks to Alura at Carson's Grille; Walmart security.
Today the world appears to run on autopilot - waterboarding at the turn of the 20th century in the Philippines little different than after the turn of the 21st everywhere else.
When felt, crushed velvet and corduroy feel the same, where does one find inspiration for newness?
The same drills, the same green recruits, the same mix of followers, doers, slackers and leaders...
That's why the game is too easy to play.
No stakes high enough.
Labels faded and rusty.
Time to shuffle players around randomly and see what they do with what they have where they are out of place and sticking out like spying Chinese businessmen in Arizona ready to be deported.
Dropping labels like cow patty packages on pompous party patrons' tables.
Let the new phase take an unexpected twist!
Perhaps it will relieve the ennui.
Today the world appears to run on autopilot - waterboarding at the turn of the 20th century in the Philippines little different than after the turn of the 21st everywhere else.
When felt, crushed velvet and corduroy feel the same, where does one find inspiration for newness?
The same drills, the same green recruits, the same mix of followers, doers, slackers and leaders...
That's why the game is too easy to play.
No stakes high enough.
Labels faded and rusty.
Time to shuffle players around randomly and see what they do with what they have where they are out of place and sticking out like spying Chinese businessmen in Arizona ready to be deported.
Dropping labels like cow patty packages on pompous party patrons' tables.
Let the new phase take an unexpected twist!
Perhaps it will relieve the ennui.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Learning to Let Go
While China continues to show it can't play fairly ("we'll take all your money while we influence your domestic buying habits but we won't let you get involved in our 'internal' affairs"), republican lawmakers are laughing all the way to 2012, realizing that democratic holdouts will allow the republicanites to pass delayed legislation after the changeover in 2011 and then claim the taxcut extension bill they voted for is the sole reason the economy improved before the 2012 presidential elections, proving "tax and spend" democratic archetypes are dinosaurs.
I heard someone say, "Nixon resigned over less damaging data than the stuff Assange's group recently released. Does that mean Nixon can recover his reputation by comparison?"
We live in interesting times, no matter how repetitive.
Cohorts are pushing me to show them what the next great thing is.
I will but it's not an instantaneous burst of product sales.
Apparently, one effort in converting social media into a cradle-to-grave education system supplanting rote learning methods in traditional classrooms is sneaking up on us - those who prove its capabilities will profit first but those who marketise it best will profit the most by creating a personality mesh sensing algorithm that detects the deficiencies in one's talent/skill mix and redirects one's social media connections to reinforce stronger lifelong healthy habits.
I heard someone say, "Nixon resigned over less damaging data than the stuff Assange's group recently released. Does that mean Nixon can recover his reputation by comparison?"
We live in interesting times, no matter how repetitive.
Cohorts are pushing me to show them what the next great thing is.
I will but it's not an instantaneous burst of product sales.
Apparently, one effort in converting social media into a cradle-to-grave education system supplanting rote learning methods in traditional classrooms is sneaking up on us - those who prove its capabilities will profit first but those who marketise it best will profit the most by creating a personality mesh sensing algorithm that detects the deficiencies in one's talent/skill mix and redirects one's social media connections to reinforce stronger lifelong healthy habits.
More Space on the Plate
From microsatellites to big blastoffs, to failed satellite launches and Venus flybys, we expand our species' knowledge base, hoping that science and math continue to attract the best and brightest to improve living conditions for all.
Knowing is doing.
A life of learning begins in childhood but it's never too late to start, or start over again.
Knowing is doing.
A life of learning begins in childhood but it's never too late to start, or start over again.
Rapunzel Redacted
Is the pen/cil or journal part of your memory?
Are you tired of atdmt.com?
Do you own the Codex Gigas?
While the Committee of 7.5 continues the process ofbrainwashing provoking coercing training encouraging people to move into densely populated sub/urban areas, they asked me about the critical mass time period when the committee can destroy these areas, eliminating most of our species in the process, and restart/reboot the system for the next experiment in civilisation building.
Days like this, I'm not sure if I'm the messenger or the message.
To live in the system as a tiny game piece and know it is no longer surreal...sigh...
I have my programmers running scenario analysis routines to determine how close the critical mass time period is.
The Book of the Future has already predicted we're well within the margin of error of the front edge of the time period.
I'll present the findings to the committee later this week, including a chart detailing the percentages, leaving the committee to decide the estimated survivors with which they want to start civilisation over.
How many times in my life and the lives of the other messengers have we shown the revolving set of committee members these charts?
How many times was the chart THE ONE that triggered the committee to call upon its foot soldiers to release large quantities of deadly bacteria/viruses, diverted asteroids, massive solar storms, or soon, perhaps, a large-scale nuclear war? Although they're just as likely to use viruses again as they are to build environmental destruction into a civilisation as a backdoor reset method.
Thank goodness they don't shoot the messengers. We're too important as another data point in the final analysis of the preliminary post-mortem.
Unfortunately, I can't report back to you the committee's compromised decision (rarely unanimous) about whether they plan to destroy the global economy as we know it anytime soon. They intentionally leave me out of the loop on that one, wise as they are to open feedback systems tending to leak.
Besides, it keeps my analysis results pure and free of political bias.
I am a robot stuck in an endless loop, observing and reporting the same information over and over, it seems.
I am a robot stuck in an endless loop, observing and reporting the same information over and over, it seems.
I am a robot stuck in an endless loop, observing and reporting the same information over and over, it seems.
As if I make sense (or have sense), somebody flood my senses with overloaded superfluous information so I don't know I'm awash in repetition!
Thanks goes out to firefighters, parents, Wendy's and the Rave again.
Are you tired of atdmt.com?
Do you own the Codex Gigas?
While the Committee of 7.5 continues the process of
Days like this, I'm not sure if I'm the messenger or the message.
To live in the system as a tiny game piece and know it is no longer surreal...sigh...
I have my programmers running scenario analysis routines to determine how close the critical mass time period is.
The Book of the Future has already predicted we're well within the margin of error of the front edge of the time period.
I'll present the findings to the committee later this week, including a chart detailing the percentages, leaving the committee to decide the estimated survivors with which they want to start civilisation over.
How many times in my life and the lives of the other messengers have we shown the revolving set of committee members these charts?
How many times was the chart THE ONE that triggered the committee to call upon its foot soldiers to release large quantities of deadly bacteria/viruses, diverted asteroids, massive solar storms, or soon, perhaps, a large-scale nuclear war? Although they're just as likely to use viruses again as they are to build environmental destruction into a civilisation as a backdoor reset method.
Thank goodness they don't shoot the messengers. We're too important as another data point in the final analysis of the preliminary post-mortem.
Unfortunately, I can't report back to you the committee's compromised decision (rarely unanimous) about whether they plan to destroy the global economy as we know it anytime soon. They intentionally leave me out of the loop on that one, wise as they are to open feedback systems tending to leak.
Besides, it keeps my analysis results pure and free of political bias.
I am a robot stuck in an endless loop, observing and reporting the same information over and over, it seems.
I am a robot stuck in an endless loop, observing and reporting the same information over and over, it seems.
I am a robot stuck in an endless loop, observing and reporting the same information over and over, it seems.
As if I make sense (or have sense), somebody flood my senses with overloaded superfluous information so I don't know I'm awash in repetition!
Thanks goes out to firefighters, parents, Wendy's and the Rave again.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Magnetised Aligned Crystal Readings
Somewhere amongst Boy Scout manuals, nature identification books and computer programming guides is "Old Wives' Tales: Life-Stories of African Women" that I picked up out of pile of discounted paperbacks in a university bookstore around 1980.
Although I no longer compete with colleagues to design and purchase the latest gizmos that define the best of modern conveniences, I stay in touch in order to observe the developments within modern society.
I dabble in my tiny lab in the study.
I go out into crowds, watching and listening to the rhythmic flow of conversations, free/constrained facial expressions and socially-trained body gestures.
Then I read books on as many different topics as I wish.
The Book of the Future back in my clutches, I consult with my programmers, the Committee of 7.5, a witch doctor, the crystal ball, old movies, the weather (local, solar, and galactic), the two in the know, our cats, the birds in the yard, general news headlines, the condition of my skin, the taste of tapwater, and, of course, colleagues, associates, friends and family.
All so that I can best decipher and translate what the current moment means to those looking back at us from infinite points in the future and past.
Anthropologically, this blog records the slow degradation of the concept of the individual person as a special phenomenon outside the interaction of states of energy.
Using something like 128 symbols (or fewer) to convey messages steeped in humour, satirically wrapped in a false sense of sarcastic cynicism.
Do you believe in crystal healing? Would you believe that strips of dark-coloured tape contain magnetised particles that turn into images and sounds of people and places that no longer exist, as if conjured by magic?
Imagine a Coriolis effect of military attacks flowing backward, the U.S./Japan attacking North Korea/China, Pakistan attacking India, Russia attacking the E.U., Iran attacking Israel, South Africa attacking the midcontinent, and Venezuela attacking Brasil.
All in the name of military corporations showing nonmilitary companies who really controls Earth?
As if conjured by magic.
Some on the committee want to pursue that course, reducing the global population considerably, and redraw the world map of political boundaries to their longterm advantage.
For the publicly-sworn cause of advancing the species, freeing up valuable rare resources for populating the galaxy with current versions of ourselves and portable ecosystems.
Other committee members want to sell a gaqzillion gadgets, depleting raw sources of rare minerals that'll have to be recycled out of refuse in the future, to increase their wealth so they can become well-loved philanthropists in their old age.
Can you see a future where both are accommodated?
Give every member of the general populace [the illusion of] happiness in the moment and hope for the future AND remembrance of the golden days of the past.
Then they'll give you whatever you want - they'll even pay you for the privilege.
After all, deep down we know we're on this big ball together - we participate in the moment and prepare for the future as one, the past belonging to everyone (no matter how atrocious or triumphant).
Although I no longer compete with colleagues to design and purchase the latest gizmos that define the best of modern conveniences, I stay in touch in order to observe the developments within modern society.
I dabble in my tiny lab in the study.
I go out into crowds, watching and listening to the rhythmic flow of conversations, free/constrained facial expressions and socially-trained body gestures.
Then I read books on as many different topics as I wish.
The Book of the Future back in my clutches, I consult with my programmers, the Committee of 7.5, a witch doctor, the crystal ball, old movies, the weather (local, solar, and galactic), the two in the know, our cats, the birds in the yard, general news headlines, the condition of my skin, the taste of tapwater, and, of course, colleagues, associates, friends and family.
All so that I can best decipher and translate what the current moment means to those looking back at us from infinite points in the future and past.
Anthropologically, this blog records the slow degradation of the concept of the individual person as a special phenomenon outside the interaction of states of energy.
Using something like 128 symbols (or fewer) to convey messages steeped in humour, satirically wrapped in a false sense of sarcastic cynicism.
Do you believe in crystal healing? Would you believe that strips of dark-coloured tape contain magnetised particles that turn into images and sounds of people and places that no longer exist, as if conjured by magic?
Imagine a Coriolis effect of military attacks flowing backward, the U.S./Japan attacking North Korea/China, Pakistan attacking India, Russia attacking the E.U., Iran attacking Israel, South Africa attacking the midcontinent, and Venezuela attacking Brasil.
All in the name of military corporations showing nonmilitary companies who really controls Earth?
As if conjured by magic.
Some on the committee want to pursue that course, reducing the global population considerably, and redraw the world map of political boundaries to their longterm advantage.
For the publicly-sworn cause of advancing the species, freeing up valuable rare resources for populating the galaxy with current versions of ourselves and portable ecosystems.
Other committee members want to sell a gaqzillion gadgets, depleting raw sources of rare minerals that'll have to be recycled out of refuse in the future, to increase their wealth so they can become well-loved philanthropists in their old age.
Can you see a future where both are accommodated?
Give every member of the general populace [the illusion of] happiness in the moment and hope for the future AND remembrance of the golden days of the past.
Then they'll give you whatever you want - they'll even pay you for the privilege.
After all, deep down we know we're on this big ball together - we participate in the moment and prepare for the future as one, the past belonging to everyone (no matter how atrocious or triumphant).
Monday, December 6, 2010
Putting "hacker" networks to better use
International intrigue - what more can we ask for?
Well, we could put aside spying and stealing electronic data or accusing the opposition (American indication of Chinese-based hacking and vice versa); instead, encourage global cooperation using computer networks (hacker or otherwise) in solving big science questions.
Meanwhile, while we while away our wily, woolly tax cut agreements in the U.S., will there be a U.S. to tax or not to tax in twenty years?
The future engages us as we read, write, think and speak. I'll tell you more about it soon...
Well, we could put aside spying and stealing electronic data or accusing the opposition (American indication of Chinese-based hacking and vice versa); instead, encourage global cooperation using computer networks (hacker or otherwise) in solving big science questions.
Meanwhile, while we while away our wily, woolly tax cut agreements in the U.S., will there be a U.S. to tax or not to tax in twenty years?
The future engages us as we read, write, think and speak. I'll tell you more about it soon...
Orchid Blooms Falling on 1040 Forms
"Coyote Ugly" meets "Chicago" with the lookalike actress from "The Last Time I Saw Paris" in the bubble-gum pop, poorly acted, less than "All That Jazz" spectacular called "Burlesque."
Even so, entertaining.
Thanks to Allen and Kristin at Rave; Eric Linn at Beauregards; alice at Tuesday Morning; the workers behind the counter at TJ Maxx; temp employees at Target; Tamara at Blue Plate Cafe; invisible RFCU teller.
How does one describe a flashback to one's youth? Rush, Police, Black Flag, mixed with local blues clubs and grade school talent show tribute bands poured through an Aran sweater soaked with shepherd's pie, Guinness and sticky toffee pudding made with Bushmills. Bass guitar vs. bass fiddle. Three-button accordion.
I was privileged the other night, jolted out of my prewinter hibernation into the bright night of psychedelic Northern lights - such was Eileen Ivers and Immigrant Soul accompanied by the audience's dim blue glow of mobile phones, deserving of another nod.
If I knew my life was going to end tomorrow, would I do anything differently in the next 24 hours?
The same answer every morning.
I'm not a single parent with kids, abandoned by a spouse with bigger goals than childrearing.
I am me, looking back at myself as the boy on the playground looking around at the boys and girls playing and asking myself to which group/clique do I belong or should join?
Socialising.
Companionship.
Aware that some seek those who seek attention.
As an adult now, the same playground sitting on top of the free flow of money and information (the same / not the same).
Still the same question and answer every day except that the world keeps shrinking, the cosmos not much closer for one like me.
Many have the answer that satisfied their childhood curiosity about what they wanted to be when they grew up and want me to share their answer with them.
Not the same.
One thousand years from now absolutely none of my words or thoughts will matter except by how I acted upon them this moment.
Knowing my life will not be around in 1000 years, should I do anything differently in the next 24 hours?
No moths beating against the cathedral window tonight...just orchid blooms dying, drying and falling upon the stack of papers surrounding the LCD computer monitor.
Billions of people want the life I have: sitting here on the living room sofa, wearing good clothes, a warm house in freezing weather, food in the kitchen, electricity providing light and Internet access, a steady family income and a loving spouse.
If I have all this, why would I want to do anything differently in the next 24 hours?
Why? Because my thoughts wander even if my body doesn't.
I don't want to own the playground, organise teams or invent new playground equipment. Not anymore. I've done all that and seen there are plenty of people who deeply enjoy those activities.
What do I deeply enjoy?
Deeply...
Truly...
That answer's easy: posing new questions and finding personally unique answers as if I'm alone in this universe of a blog having to find my own way, trailblazing in the manner only I can.
Sometimes a simple reminder that being me is sufficient is sufficient to me being me.
We find different ways to pat ourselves on the back and say we're doing a great job being ourselves.
Great job, Rick! Keep up the good work! You've got your eyes on the big prize, don't forget that. Doesn't matter if others can't see where we're going, we're going to get there together, even though it takes all thousand years one at time to do so. The species will survive itself as it transforms into something different - 100% guaranteed!
Even so, entertaining.
Thanks to Allen and Kristin at Rave; Eric Linn at Beauregards; alice at Tuesday Morning; the workers behind the counter at TJ Maxx; temp employees at Target; Tamara at Blue Plate Cafe; invisible RFCU teller.
How does one describe a flashback to one's youth? Rush, Police, Black Flag, mixed with local blues clubs and grade school talent show tribute bands poured through an Aran sweater soaked with shepherd's pie, Guinness and sticky toffee pudding made with Bushmills. Bass guitar vs. bass fiddle. Three-button accordion.
I was privileged the other night, jolted out of my prewinter hibernation into the bright night of psychedelic Northern lights - such was Eileen Ivers and Immigrant Soul accompanied by the audience's dim blue glow of mobile phones, deserving of another nod.
If I knew my life was going to end tomorrow, would I do anything differently in the next 24 hours?
The same answer every morning.
I'm not a single parent with kids, abandoned by a spouse with bigger goals than childrearing.
I am me, looking back at myself as the boy on the playground looking around at the boys and girls playing and asking myself to which group/clique do I belong or should join?
Socialising.
Companionship.
Aware that some seek those who seek attention.
As an adult now, the same playground sitting on top of the free flow of money and information (the same / not the same).
Still the same question and answer every day except that the world keeps shrinking, the cosmos not much closer for one like me.
Many have the answer that satisfied their childhood curiosity about what they wanted to be when they grew up and want me to share their answer with them.
Not the same.
One thousand years from now absolutely none of my words or thoughts will matter except by how I acted upon them this moment.
Knowing my life will not be around in 1000 years, should I do anything differently in the next 24 hours?
No moths beating against the cathedral window tonight...just orchid blooms dying, drying and falling upon the stack of papers surrounding the LCD computer monitor.
Billions of people want the life I have: sitting here on the living room sofa, wearing good clothes, a warm house in freezing weather, food in the kitchen, electricity providing light and Internet access, a steady family income and a loving spouse.
If I have all this, why would I want to do anything differently in the next 24 hours?
Why? Because my thoughts wander even if my body doesn't.
I don't want to own the playground, organise teams or invent new playground equipment. Not anymore. I've done all that and seen there are plenty of people who deeply enjoy those activities.
What do I deeply enjoy?
Deeply...
Truly...
That answer's easy: posing new questions and finding personally unique answers as if I'm alone in this universe of a blog having to find my own way, trailblazing in the manner only I can.
Sometimes a simple reminder that being me is sufficient is sufficient to me being me.
We find different ways to pat ourselves on the back and say we're doing a great job being ourselves.
Great job, Rick! Keep up the good work! You've got your eyes on the big prize, don't forget that. Doesn't matter if others can't see where we're going, we're going to get there together, even though it takes all thousand years one at time to do so. The species will survive itself as it transforms into something different - 100% guaranteed!
Government Outlaws Citizen Journalism
In expected news today, the consortium of global governments (CGG) declared that all citizens who want to hide behind the banner of protecting the citizenry through the freedom of information must register their intent to act as journalists.
The declaration, part of the secret law passed overnight, nicknamed "Assange is no Toto," officially named Bill # 45WU89c, protects the rights of large news organisations from being one-upped by teenagers running newsbots in their neighbourhood clubhouses located in parents' unleased attic flats.
All unregistered journalists are subject to search and seizure (but not allowing the sympathy-inducing pharmacologically-triggered seizure in public trick during arrest) at any time and place.
Bloggers and tweeters were arrested by the millions this morning as a clear indication that the CGG is serious this time.
Those arrested included unemployed actors, factory workers, middle management, CEOs, and government leaders.
The government leaders who were arrested have cried foul, claiming that their blogging/tweeting subordinates acted on their own accord without first consulting the leaders about both the false and true "leaks" that were sent out from time to time to discredit political rivals and foreign governments.
The arrested middle managers and CEOs released statements detailing the email/text "paper trail" showing that they were simply following orders and should not be punished for doing what they thought was their duty to their stockholders, including subtle damaging comments about their competitors in online forums.
At a noon press conference, the CGG spokesperson said that those arrested will be given the opportunity to seek retraining in place of imprisonment. After questioning, the spokesperson clarified that the retraining will not include deleterious torture methods but may include watching films starring Kathy Griffin and Richard Chamberlain, bringing into question the exact definition of "torture."
The declaration, part of the secret law passed overnight, nicknamed "Assange is no Toto," officially named Bill # 45WU89c, protects the rights of large news organisations from being one-upped by teenagers running newsbots in their neighbourhood clubhouses located in parents' unleased attic flats.
All unregistered journalists are subject to search and seizure (but not allowing the sympathy-inducing pharmacologically-triggered seizure in public trick during arrest) at any time and place.
Bloggers and tweeters were arrested by the millions this morning as a clear indication that the CGG is serious this time.
Those arrested included unemployed actors, factory workers, middle management, CEOs, and government leaders.
The government leaders who were arrested have cried foul, claiming that their blogging/tweeting subordinates acted on their own accord without first consulting the leaders about both the false and true "leaks" that were sent out from time to time to discredit political rivals and foreign governments.
The arrested middle managers and CEOs released statements detailing the email/text "paper trail" showing that they were simply following orders and should not be punished for doing what they thought was their duty to their stockholders, including subtle damaging comments about their competitors in online forums.
At a noon press conference, the CGG spokesperson said that those arrested will be given the opportunity to seek retraining in place of imprisonment. After questioning, the spokesperson clarified that the retraining will not include deleterious torture methods but may include watching films starring Kathy Griffin and Richard Chamberlain, bringing into question the exact definition of "torture."
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Does Extending Your Life Mark Narcissism If Your Family Depends On You?
Two of the infinite points on a parabola:
Would a person near the second point insist on speaking only a "pure" form of the native language?
While you live your life full of assumptions that your way is the only true way to live, do you see that the variety of local ecosystems will not accommodate a single, all-encompassing lifestyle, and thus you make room in your worldview for other ways to live, especially outside the environment well-suited to your preferences? What if your environment was generic enough it could accommodate many different lifestyles?
Like the vendor says, "You don't have to like me or what I represent but please buy my product that is calling out to you right now in this special moment between us."
Translating the Committee's instructions for implementing the next phase of our species' existence so that all lifestyles move forward as one was never meant to be an easy task.
Most subcultures do not want to know they are being nudged along, believing they are in control of their own destinies, eternally unchangeable. Yet, have you ever met a person who couldn't form an opinion when encountering something new, no matter how strange or alien or out of context?
Stimulus and response. Every cell in your body will respond to toxins (i.e., "form an opinion about something new") no matter what your subculture may be.
The Committee's instructions are quite clear - make the species change, at all costs, because the next phase is going to be a big transition, and yet practically unnoticeable at the subcultural level.
There is no such thing as the end of the world. There is only change. We are all part of the changes here on this planet whether we want to be or not.
Last night, my colleagues, associates, and friends started the process of change for this next phase.
For some, the effects of the change will be painful. Others will smoothly slide from the old phase into the new one effortlessly. In relative terms, many will change but feel like they're being left behind.
You don't have to embrace a one-galaxy view but you're part of it, anyway. It's just the way it has to be so you can maintain a belief in your subculture in this so-called solar system.
The true view - the "multiverse" one, if you will (such quaint anthropomorphic jargon) - will show the few who know that others can be brought along into a system so far outside morals and ethics and body parts that words like "you," "me," and "us" are neither meaningful nor meaningless.
Can you look back 1000 years from now and see where we are in relation to where "we" will be?
Do you understand the total transformation that will pass us out of the one-body, one-mind viewpoint that permeates all current religions and belief systems?
Some of you will.
Remember, it's simply about states of energy, no belief system required. Artifacts of "consciousness" and other mass-hypnotic cultural beliefs will become ancient history before you know it.
We used Assange as a demonstration for some of you and a test of deprogramming others. Those who resisted the cultural shift of his documentation release the strongest are the ones we will focus our energy on changing the most subtly - they'll never see how we delineated and boxed in their subcultures so we can deal with them easily.
More to follow...
- Believing one's body is sacred, and if a body part is badly infected or dying, then you accept you will die because the part will not be removed or replaced.
- Believing the body is a mixture of states of energy and any ol' mix-and-match will do when it comes to quality and quantity of good, healthy days.
Would a person near the second point insist on speaking only a "pure" form of the native language?
While you live your life full of assumptions that your way is the only true way to live, do you see that the variety of local ecosystems will not accommodate a single, all-encompassing lifestyle, and thus you make room in your worldview for other ways to live, especially outside the environment well-suited to your preferences? What if your environment was generic enough it could accommodate many different lifestyles?
Like the vendor says, "You don't have to like me or what I represent but please buy my product that is calling out to you right now in this special moment between us."
Translating the Committee's instructions for implementing the next phase of our species' existence so that all lifestyles move forward as one was never meant to be an easy task.
Most subcultures do not want to know they are being nudged along, believing they are in control of their own destinies, eternally unchangeable. Yet, have you ever met a person who couldn't form an opinion when encountering something new, no matter how strange or alien or out of context?
Stimulus and response. Every cell in your body will respond to toxins (i.e., "form an opinion about something new") no matter what your subculture may be.
The Committee's instructions are quite clear - make the species change, at all costs, because the next phase is going to be a big transition, and yet practically unnoticeable at the subcultural level.
There is no such thing as the end of the world. There is only change. We are all part of the changes here on this planet whether we want to be or not.
Last night, my colleagues, associates, and friends started the process of change for this next phase.
For some, the effects of the change will be painful. Others will smoothly slide from the old phase into the new one effortlessly. In relative terms, many will change but feel like they're being left behind.
You don't have to embrace a one-galaxy view but you're part of it, anyway. It's just the way it has to be so you can maintain a belief in your subculture in this so-called solar system.
The true view - the "multiverse" one, if you will (such quaint anthropomorphic jargon) - will show the few who know that others can be brought along into a system so far outside morals and ethics and body parts that words like "you," "me," and "us" are neither meaningful nor meaningless.
Can you look back 1000 years from now and see where we are in relation to where "we" will be?
Do you understand the total transformation that will pass us out of the one-body, one-mind viewpoint that permeates all current religions and belief systems?
Some of you will.
Remember, it's simply about states of energy, no belief system required. Artifacts of "consciousness" and other mass-hypnotic cultural beliefs will become ancient history before you know it.
We used Assange as a demonstration for some of you and a test of deprogramming others. Those who resisted the cultural shift of his documentation release the strongest are the ones we will focus our energy on changing the most subtly - they'll never see how we delineated and boxed in their subcultures so we can deal with them easily.
More to follow...
Saturday, December 4, 2010
The Big Star
Do you or to what do you aspire?
After an afternoon and evening of watching the world of collegiate amateur football championships in the local culturally designated year of 2010, I turn to the autobiography of Bill Bates, entitled "Shoot For The Star."
Do you attract tens of thousands to hear you speak on topics that reinforce people's belief in themselves?
Is nothing short of the safety and security of the entire species your primary objective?
Would you keep the magic show running on the side while pursuing a reality beyond comprehension?
If all I did here was entertain us, then I have failed to grasp the fuller impact these words made.
In every key click that results in an electronically-stored letter/character lies not what I would call a deeper meaning but the points along a curve and building blocks of a story that accumulate or accrue.
We can sit around and write business plans that make VC funding fun and games. Many do.
Did you ever have the opportunity to enjoy a dinner conversation with John Updike and Salman Rushdie, hearing Salman say he read your book in a tone of voice that told you he didn't want to speak out loud what he thought of the contents?
The longer I delay the announcement of the start of the next phase of existence the Committee of 7.5 has planned for us, the longer I stagnate.
Don't dream big. Implement big plans successfully, building in timeframes for loopbacks of lessons learned along the way to the completion of every phase.
I have sat here tearing apart nanothreads in the fabric of time comprising a lesson we long ago recovered from.
More later...
After an afternoon and evening of watching the world of collegiate amateur football championships in the local culturally designated year of 2010, I turn to the autobiography of Bill Bates, entitled "Shoot For The Star."
Do you attract tens of thousands to hear you speak on topics that reinforce people's belief in themselves?
Is nothing short of the safety and security of the entire species your primary objective?
Would you keep the magic show running on the side while pursuing a reality beyond comprehension?
If all I did here was entertain us, then I have failed to grasp the fuller impact these words made.
In every key click that results in an electronically-stored letter/character lies not what I would call a deeper meaning but the points along a curve and building blocks of a story that accumulate or accrue.
We can sit around and write business plans that make VC funding fun and games. Many do.
Did you ever have the opportunity to enjoy a dinner conversation with John Updike and Salman Rushdie, hearing Salman say he read your book in a tone of voice that told you he didn't want to speak out loud what he thought of the contents?
The longer I delay the announcement of the start of the next phase of existence the Committee of 7.5 has planned for us, the longer I stagnate.
Don't dream big. Implement big plans successfully, building in timeframes for loopbacks of lessons learned along the way to the completion of every phase.
I have sat here tearing apart nanothreads in the fabric of time comprising a lesson we long ago recovered from.
More later...
Ask Matt Millen
Do you know what goes on in professional football locker rooms? Matt said don't ask. Steve Young don't tell. Military generals wonder if they should investigate the team chemistry that results. Sean McDonough doesn't want to know - just stick to colour analysis and we'll get thru the post Oregon/Auburn knockout championships with one between ACC teams.
Enjoyed the parade today, the NEACA craft show, BBQ served to us by Andi S at Lawlers and ice cream from Baskin-Robbins. Marathon next week. The Music City Bowl's not that far away in place/time, is it?
Enjoyed the parade today, the NEACA craft show, BBQ served to us by Andi S at Lawlers and ice cream from Baskin-Robbins. Marathon next week. The Music City Bowl's not that far away in place/time, is it?
Afield and in the stream of technology
Want to live away from it all but work as if you aren't?:
Rural outsourcing gaining stride
Friday, December 3, 2010
Another Instance of Deprogramming Gone Wild
One side effect of the leaking wiki wikis - the dilution of years of brainwashing people into believing that there's something worth working/fighting/dying for.
Me, included.
If our leaders and fellow citizens are rotten to the core, why follow or join the crowd with them?
Despite my everyday practice of reasoning and rationalising (not to mention rationing), I hold a childhood belief in a sense of fair play.
Oh, to be innocent again.
One does not live on deer meat alone. Not for very long.
With no mortgage to pay and no [grand]children to raise, I am left to ask what is there left to justify my social compromises to help others compromise in their social interactions with others who compromise in promises they make to compromise my privately-compromised publicly-solid positions.
All of this inside the parallel universe that is this blogged storyline.
How can I tell the difference between the old Chinese way of teaching neighbours to spy on and report their neighbours' activities and the American way of its public/private citizens spying on its citizens un/knowingly?
How can I tell my international friends that the Western [i.e., American] way is any better than their sociopolitical systems full of bribery, cheating, spying and assassination?
Most people don't care. No matter how good/bad the news, they still have their cocooned lives full of mortgages, baby food, car payments, job requirements and personal ties to political/popular figures to maintain.
My cartel friends ask me what is it that I'm trying to say here. Do they need to increase their laundered investments in my companies overseas? Are their any political figures, security forces or average citizens they haven't bought for me already, either through direct bribes or subliminal advertisement campaigns?
I ask them to keep the back channels open as usual because, with the plugging of public leaks that continues to take place, I need the free flow of information one way or the other to manage this planet while building my resources to get me and mine off the planet before it's too late.
"Too late for what?," you might ask. That, my poorly informed friends, is for me to know and you to find out. If it's a dog-eat-dog world, I sure am going to keep some secrets to myself to protect the freedom of information inside the imaginary world here.
The social structure of this species into which my combined states of energy were born is more confining than I want to accept. There's a whole galaxy of possibilities out there that have nothing to do with our paranoid species-confinement tactics. Whatever form I (or my extended/extracted self) takes, I'm getting off this globe ASAP.
As we've already imagined, when prisons become "soylent green" factories, you'll know there's no limit to the compromises a species will take to treat its special members to privilege. Not enough food to feed the masses? Increase monitoring of the species to create more unprivileged lawbreakers and thus more bodies to process protein to feed the shrinking "free" population. Instead of swords into plowshares, abolish crematoria and establish smorgasbords!
I ask the bare trees outside, "How did we get into this mess? Is my brain really that much more valuable than your light-seeking leaves?"
The end never justifies the means, no matter how much we convince ourselves otherwise. In the end, it doesn't matter. This is just a blog.
In the real world, people [like to] believe their leaders and their governments and their employers and their fellow citizens are operating at the highest level of integrity, openness and honesty.
What is real? A package of crushed red-hot peppers - that's about as real as it gets. Remove the label from the packaging and the contents are still the same, as eye-watering and flavourful as ever.
Me, included.
If our leaders and fellow citizens are rotten to the core, why follow or join the crowd with them?
Despite my everyday practice of reasoning and rationalising (not to mention rationing), I hold a childhood belief in a sense of fair play.
Oh, to be innocent again.
One does not live on deer meat alone. Not for very long.
With no mortgage to pay and no [grand]children to raise, I am left to ask what is there left to justify my social compromises to help others compromise in their social interactions with others who compromise in promises they make to compromise my privately-compromised publicly-solid positions.
All of this inside the parallel universe that is this blogged storyline.
How can I tell the difference between the old Chinese way of teaching neighbours to spy on and report their neighbours' activities and the American way of its public/private citizens spying on its citizens un/knowingly?
How can I tell my international friends that the Western [i.e., American] way is any better than their sociopolitical systems full of bribery, cheating, spying and assassination?
Most people don't care. No matter how good/bad the news, they still have their cocooned lives full of mortgages, baby food, car payments, job requirements and personal ties to political/popular figures to maintain.
My cartel friends ask me what is it that I'm trying to say here. Do they need to increase their laundered investments in my companies overseas? Are their any political figures, security forces or average citizens they haven't bought for me already, either through direct bribes or subliminal advertisement campaigns?
I ask them to keep the back channels open as usual because, with the plugging of public leaks that continues to take place, I need the free flow of information one way or the other to manage this planet while building my resources to get me and mine off the planet before it's too late.
"Too late for what?," you might ask. That, my poorly informed friends, is for me to know and you to find out. If it's a dog-eat-dog world, I sure am going to keep some secrets to myself to protect the freedom of information inside the imaginary world here.
The social structure of this species into which my combined states of energy were born is more confining than I want to accept. There's a whole galaxy of possibilities out there that have nothing to do with our paranoid species-confinement tactics. Whatever form I (or my extended/extracted self) takes, I'm getting off this globe ASAP.
As we've already imagined, when prisons become "soylent green" factories, you'll know there's no limit to the compromises a species will take to treat its special members to privilege. Not enough food to feed the masses? Increase monitoring of the species to create more unprivileged lawbreakers and thus more bodies to process protein to feed the shrinking "free" population. Instead of swords into plowshares, abolish crematoria and establish smorgasbords!
I ask the bare trees outside, "How did we get into this mess? Is my brain really that much more valuable than your light-seeking leaves?"
The end never justifies the means, no matter how much we convince ourselves otherwise. In the end, it doesn't matter. This is just a blog.
In the real world, people [like to] believe their leaders and their governments and their employers and their fellow citizens are operating at the highest level of integrity, openness and honesty.
What is real? A package of crushed red-hot peppers - that's about as real as it gets. Remove the label from the packaging and the contents are still the same, as eye-watering and flavourful as ever.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Come On, Eileen
Do you ever feel like your conversation continues to fall on deaf ears?
I don't know how many times I've assured Putin in public that lack of approval of the START treaty is no reason for the movement of Russian nuclear weapons to European borders.
But does he listen to me? Of course not. He has to be the big bad Russki bear, growling and flexing his claws.
Vlad, it's just you and me here, kiddo. Ain't like you can't see what's really going on. Ease off the missile deployment, willya? Let the Europeans and Americans worry about the domino theory. No, not the fall of democracies to communism. Instead, I mean the fall of capitalist economies to bankruptcy.
Some days, I might as well talk to the trees as inject them with arsenic to make future poisonous toothpicks out of them to feed to unsuspecting aliens checking out the bacterial life forms in Mono Lake.
Excuse me, class, but is there a bacterium in the auditorium?
The world is full of white hair and stuffed shirts - isn't that what I'm supposed to say? Repetitious, however true.
Like attending a cultural musical event - orchestral support/attendance attracts/needs well-funded familial fixings, usually older, refined and loaded (with cash, that is). Youth (but not youthfulness) stands out in the crowded, aged multitude.
My Russian colleague, you should have been with my wife and me this noteworthy evening. Jigging (and almost jiving) to tonight's premiere performance of An Nollaig: An Irish Christmas with Eileen Ivers, the Drake School Irish dancers in street/Irish costumes and the LCT Singers dressed in black provided the perfect stepping/swaying counterbalance to Eileen and her merry band, Immigrant Soul.
You should take a lesson from them.
We should be sittin' in a pub "sipping"a pint pints like Clinton and Yeltsin in the old days, listenin' to these musicians, their eyes closed while tuned to their comrades' rumbling bass notes, percussive beats and high-pitched harmonic stringing.
You'd almost think we were in a contemporary church service, the band drawing the audience closer, Eileen fiddling like she's telling Charlie Daniels to put the devil to bed. Would I dare compare her to Natalie MacMaster? Would one compare Eric Clapton to Chet Atkins or Chet Atkins to Eddie Van Halen?
Irish might be the announced style but Eileen and her boys add bits of blues, jazz, rock and a touch of country to their tunes. A duel between Ivers' violin and Buddy Connolly's three-button accordion will nearly set the stage of fire, I tell ya!
The George Wendt of male singers - Tommy McDonnell - will practically have you thinking you're in a gospel singalong led by the Blues Brothers Band.
Leo Traversa on bass guitar and Greg Anderson on acoustic guitar/bouzouki will get your toes a-tappin'.
The finale tonight was like a volcano exploding with sound, wanting you to shout and sing until the roof came down (and considering the venue, the Von Braun Center, is under construction, that might be possible).
So it was fitting that the full ensemble appeared on stage to sing an encore medley starting with "May The Circle Be Unbroken" and ending with the Hallelujah chorus.
Vlad, if you could hear Eileen play the violin like a rock guitarist on steroids, you'd park your missiles over Afghanistan, Iran and every country standing in the way of women like Laurie Anderson, Eileen, Natalie and any other virtuoso female violinist unable to play a fiddle under a burqa. The world would be a better place, I'm sure.
I could say more but I suggest you get your own ensemble over to the States and catch a concert performance of Eileen Ivers' jig of a twist on Christmas music. It might even convince the North Koreans and Iranians to put aside nuclear armament, with visions of sugar-plums dancing in their heads, instead.
Well, I guess it's time to settle my brain for a nice winter's nap. And here I thought I was going to keep silent. See what Eileen has done to me!
Thanks to SAIC for sponsoring the concert; Rainy, Gift and Penny at Thai Garden for serving dinner.
I don't know how many times I've assured Putin in public that lack of approval of the START treaty is no reason for the movement of Russian nuclear weapons to European borders.
But does he listen to me? Of course not. He has to be the big bad Russki bear, growling and flexing his claws.
Vlad, it's just you and me here, kiddo. Ain't like you can't see what's really going on. Ease off the missile deployment, willya? Let the Europeans and Americans worry about the domino theory. No, not the fall of democracies to communism. Instead, I mean the fall of capitalist economies to bankruptcy.
Some days, I might as well talk to the trees as inject them with arsenic to make future poisonous toothpicks out of them to feed to unsuspecting aliens checking out the bacterial life forms in Mono Lake.
Excuse me, class, but is there a bacterium in the auditorium?
The world is full of white hair and stuffed shirts - isn't that what I'm supposed to say? Repetitious, however true.
Like attending a cultural musical event - orchestral support/attendance attracts/needs well-funded familial fixings, usually older, refined and loaded (with cash, that is). Youth (but not youthfulness) stands out in the crowded, aged multitude.
My Russian colleague, you should have been with my wife and me this noteworthy evening. Jigging (and almost jiving) to tonight's premiere performance of An Nollaig: An Irish Christmas with Eileen Ivers, the Drake School Irish dancers in street/Irish costumes and the LCT Singers dressed in black provided the perfect stepping/swaying counterbalance to Eileen and her merry band, Immigrant Soul.
You should take a lesson from them.
We should be sittin' in a pub "sipping"
You'd almost think we were in a contemporary church service, the band drawing the audience closer, Eileen fiddling like she's telling Charlie Daniels to put the devil to bed. Would I dare compare her to Natalie MacMaster? Would one compare Eric Clapton to Chet Atkins or Chet Atkins to Eddie Van Halen?
Irish might be the announced style but Eileen and her boys add bits of blues, jazz, rock and a touch of country to their tunes. A duel between Ivers' violin and Buddy Connolly's three-button accordion will nearly set the stage of fire, I tell ya!
The George Wendt of male singers - Tommy McDonnell - will practically have you thinking you're in a gospel singalong led by the Blues Brothers Band.
Leo Traversa on bass guitar and Greg Anderson on acoustic guitar/bouzouki will get your toes a-tappin'.
The finale tonight was like a volcano exploding with sound, wanting you to shout and sing until the roof came down (and considering the venue, the Von Braun Center, is under construction, that might be possible).
So it was fitting that the full ensemble appeared on stage to sing an encore medley starting with "May The Circle Be Unbroken" and ending with the Hallelujah chorus.
Vlad, if you could hear Eileen play the violin like a rock guitarist on steroids, you'd park your missiles over Afghanistan, Iran and every country standing in the way of women like Laurie Anderson, Eileen, Natalie and any other virtuoso female violinist unable to play a fiddle under a burqa. The world would be a better place, I'm sure.
I could say more but I suggest you get your own ensemble over to the States and catch a concert performance of Eileen Ivers' jig of a twist on Christmas music. It might even convince the North Koreans and Iranians to put aside nuclear armament, with visions of sugar-plums dancing in their heads, instead.
Well, I guess it's time to settle my brain for a nice winter's nap. And here I thought I was going to keep silent. See what Eileen has done to me!
Thanks to SAIC for sponsoring the concert; Rainy, Gift and Penny at Thai Garden for serving dinner.
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