Fast Food News

Hey, movie fans, this is Neau Tahm Toulouse here with Entertainment Tweetly.

In political news, the governor of Tennessee today signed legislation banning scratch-n-sniff cards in children’s toys.  The legislation is called the “gateway drug prevention” bill by the press.  The governor countered that the new bill also contains subsections that approve the issuance of government IDs like social security numbers and voting cards but not driver’s licences to online personalities, keeping kids more strongly glued to their gaming devices in the hope that obsessive video gaming will act as a form of abstinence from physical contact with other humans, let alone any gateway sexual activity such as breathing the same air as another young adolescent in the room with you.

The Solicitor General has already posted a notice that the new Tennessee bill will probably be challenged in lower courts, so the Supreme Court took the preemptive move to issue an immediate comment about the Tennessee legislative act, stating that with one state recognising the legal right of virtual citizens, corporations now have the right to vote in elections, the corporations’ voting power (i.e., number of votes per voting district) proportionate to their monetary size, number of employees, superPAC donations and former legislators/judges/executives on their consultant/lobbyist payrolls and/or board of directors.

The governor, son of the founder of a large corporation, responded, “He who laughs last usually has his vast wealth in offshore accounts and trust funds.”

I caught Julia Roberts in a moment of regret and sadness during a recent interview, who was bemoaning the fact that she’s almost forgotten and reduced to playing the role of mean, wrinkled witches because she’s considered past her prime.  She admitted that she had wanted to perform nude or topless scenes in film but had been discouraged by her agent because Julia’s breasts are asymmetrical in shape and audiences weren’t ready for mainstream stars to have imperfect bodies displayed larger-than-life.  I only had my cell phone, which has a lousy microphone but I believe she also said, “younger actresses are lucky — audiences are so jaded they don’t pay attention to nudity anymore, as common as it is on the Internet — exhibitionism is expected, not shocking.  Getting a job via the casting couch has changed, too, now that women are sitting in the director and producer chairs these days.”  Julia wouldn’t elaborate when I asked her for details about that last comment.

This is Neau Tahm Toulouse, returning to his hopping spot in the French Quarter.  I gotta take a break and read some real literature.  This pop news reportin’ is ruinin’ my vocabulary and eloquent speechmakin’.

Lookie, lookie, lookie

In the continuing saga of “life finds a way,” we take you into a town called Sauceburg, where children are hooked up to indoor gaming devices or texting tablets, well protected from the scorching ultraviolent rays of the hot sun.

Deep into the labyrinthine lanes, streets, courts, roads and sidewalk-lined, curbed, cobbled, paved and concreted vehicle access paths of suburban housing estates.

Where, except on Mondays and Thursday, when lawn maintenance crews cut, sweep, mow, and blow landscape material, hauling the unapproved composting contents away, babies are raised, teenagers tolerated and adults get their weekly five-minute breaks from the horrors of reality.

Otherwise, during the day, relative quiet hangs in the air, hardly a soul in sight of patrolling drones.

At night, sleep.

Occasionally, a raucous sound pierces the peaceful dreams of parents, driving the stake of fear through their hearts!

Oh my God, Jasmyn!  Drunken young adult drivers weaving through the neighbourhood!!!

Quick! Press the button that lowers your curbside mailbox into its protective underground vault, safe from the screeching tires and solid bumpers of SUVs out of control!

What did you say?

You didn’t follow the Joneses and buy the latest in home protective services, including the Postal Service Access System 3000 that only allows preauthorized, certified delivery of mail and small packages to the pop-up mailbox, activated by the security badges worn by prescreened postmen (and women! (and robots!)), which, after delivery, lowers itself automatically and attaches to the underground conveyor that passes your mail through metal detectors, bomb sniffers, white powder zappers and pest control fumigators to the comfort of your home, your castle, the virtual womb that encases you and your family, well out of reach of those who intend only harm and malice?

Well, that’s too bad.

Because, in that case, this is you:

The Mailbox – Chapter Two

Stay tuned to what happens when your neighbours are in too big of a hurry to investigate the manufacture of mailboxes they stick into the ground because the suburban covenant says they have to have one despite all their correspondence flying back and forth electronically.

Ship’s log

17 June 1987, 17:53

I have entered a new adventure in learning (for which my wife and I have given one hundred and seventy-seven American dollars).  This adventure is entitled Sociology 480 – Society of the Future.  The other members of this adventure will share the ideas we bring to the class and the ideas of the members of the Worldwatch Institute who have issued “A Worldwatch Institute Report on Progress Toward a Sustainable Society,” entitled State of the World 1987.

= = = = = = = = = =

17 June 1987

Dr. Donald Tarter, instructor, Sociology of the Future

  • For the next 25 years, NOBODY CAN PREDICT THE FUTURE!!!
  • Doesn’t stop us from asking, “What if…?”  “What can happen?”
  • Some have made bold predictions in science, literature and behavioural studies:
    • Carl Sagan
    • Arthur Clarke
    • B.F. Skinner
  • For instance, Sagan predicts that survival over the next 100 years for endangered species is less than 10%.

Analyzing the Pressures of Population, especially ours:

  • Population factors such as growth rates, supply and demand for resources
  • Energy alternatives — availability of supplies
  • Mineral resources
  • Agricultural resources — can we grow enough?

= = = = = = = = = =

29 June 1987 20:20

A visit by Dr. Carl Sagan to Huntsville, Alabama, to discuss “Star Wars or Mars.”

Leaving this planet

  • Application of rocketry
    – developed by Chinese
    – developed into instruments of death and destruction by Europeans
    60,000 nuclear weapons
    1 submarine can destroy 192 cities
    “A central exchange” – ~200 million to 2 billion killed on tight nuclear winter — destruction of agriculture; starvation, destruction of ozone layer would bring about equivalent of large-scale AIDS
    You cannot trust estimates of probability of failure when the stakes are high
  • Solutions
    “Star Wars” a/k/a SDI (strategic defense initiative)
    Render nuclear weapons “impotent and obsolete” — President Reagan
    If simultaneous deployment by both sides were possible then the shield would be feasible
  • Cons
    Porosity — one Senate group predicts 16% of Soviet weapons destroy
    10% getting through means 1000 Soviet weapons which would wipe out America
    U.S. is invaded daily by small aircraft carrying the weight but not the density of nuclear weapons
    Decoys and penetration aids, low flying (depressed) flight paths, increased number of warheads built by Soviets
    Computer program “battle management system” to detect and destroy the nuclear warheads would be too complex to design and debug
    If U.S. had first strike then Stars Wars could wipe out remaining Soviet nuclear weapons
    Would cost $2 trillion U.S. dollars
    Some scientists refusing to be involved in SDI — ~10,000 in number
    Estimated that $600M spent on SDI in Huntsville
    Not worth the cost even if money was available
    National security should be measured by wealth of economy, not by money spent on national defense
    Children should look forward to growing up
  • Alternative — bilateral decrease in strategic arms

Rocketry

  • Werner von Braun in Germany, Robert Goddard in U.S.
    After WWII in U.S., 1961-1978, the moment the human species (mainly the U.S.) explored all the planets known to the ancients
    Now many other nations have joined the exploration
  • Today, NASA is dis-spirited, in serious trouble
    Principle reason: NO GOAL
    IT NEEDS A GOAL AND ONE EXISTS:
    Systematic robotic exploration of Mars,
    followed by manned exploration of Mars around the turn of the century
  • If one or more nations combined, it could cost less than one strategic weapon
    Exploration could help show why the deterioration of the water on Mars…
    Send robots to Mars if science reason only
  • Should combine/cooperate with Soviets in some project on behalf of human species
    “Existence theorem” – high-tech cooperation is possible

    1. Cooperative unmanned exploration of Mars and its moons; Soviets plan to send six spacecraft to Mars 1988-2000
    2. Cooperate to build space station to build ships in space to make interplanetary travel for 9-month trip or longer
    3. Would capture the imagination of the human species that no other project would do!

    Same technology involved as in military

  • “It is as if God said, ‘Before you I set the tools of immense power to destroy yourselves or carry yourselves to the planets and the cosmos.'”
  • Governments make mistakes, lie, cheat and steal
    All citizens should have minimal understanding of science and engineering
    Reduction of nuclear arms — one problem at a time, other weapons reduced later
  • Reach minimum deterrence, not zero possession
    1968 Nuclear Non-proliferation Treaty, Article VI, U.S. and USSR pledge to massively reduce their nuclear arsenals
  • “Testosterone poisoning” — men involved together too long in the act of killing
    Men are adapted to hunger-gatherers in East Africa but not to high-tech nuclear arms race today
  • Tortoise (them) and hare (us) effect with regards to space race — our government started out faster but quit…

= = = = = = = = = =

TWENTY-FIVE YEARS HAVE PASSED SINCE THESE SHIP’S LOG ENTRIES WERE WRITTEN…

Where are the ideas discussed in today’s “sociology of the future” class going to take us another 25 years hence?

  • Will computer modeling look as quaint as some of Sagan’s ideas look today?
  • Will our integration with electronic technology so blur the line between a body and machine, we stop paying attention to the distinction?
  • Will space exploration and planetary settlement make us no longer an Earth-based lifeform?

Rick wants to come back and share with you the future 1000 years from now but he promised himself he’d retire from active management of our species and fulfill his destiny to become one with nature, whatever that means.  Don’t make him come out of retirement and tell you what he already knows you’re going to do.  Trust that words like “recession” and “depression” are purely labels used to reinforce our species’ overprocessed development of social engagement we call economics and has nothing to do with how well our species will adapt to ecological changes currently in progress, such as planetary warming that goes against what should be a cooling period.  The planet transforms, individual species dying away as species always do, ours doomed to eventually disappear in the grand scale of planetary history — doesn’t matter if it’s in thousands, millions or billions of years, does it?  Keep on keeping on.

Wristbands and ankle bracelets

Agirita put her hands on her hips and raised her shoulders to stretch the tension out of her neck muscles.

She glanced down at the welps and bruises growing on her legs.

She was exhausted.

For some reason, she just remembered the old man had driven away with her share of the fish sales.

Now what was she going to do, broke and starving?

No one seemed interested in buying the squid, which, naturally, was made more difficult by the strange activities that happened to her when the squid was around.

She believed the world was full of magic, where people can disappear into unseen dimensions and travel through time.

Why so many people seemed to disappear recently had no ready explanation in Agirita’s thoughts.

Unless…

Was the squid a time machine?

Was it a portal to another universe?

What made people act so crazy around the squid?

Why did people call it a machine sometimes?

She faced the squid, finally noticing its new shiny, red exteriour.

When had its skin colour changed so drastically?

Agirita walked over to the squid and stared at the drying liquid which had fallen out of its backend.

Was it finally starting to decay?

Although she was no expert, she had seen enough sea animals to know they rarely survived out of water for more than a day or two.

Was this squid like a snail, able to hide its real body inside the soft shell of its head and mantle, having to purge to reduce its size?

Agirita needed to go on.  The heat of the day and the lack of food and water was getting to her.  She had a long way to walk to the other side of town and carrying the squid was no easy task, although it did seem to get lighter and lighter as the day wore on, possibly due to the loss of liquid from the squid that seemed to occur periodically.

She lifted the squid onto her left shoulder to ease the pain of a punch that “Clif” had landed on her right arm.

A warm feeling flowed through her body.

She felt like she was floating on air or lying back in a bathtub full of warm, aromatic water, surrounded by candles, soft music playing in the background.

She imagined a voice telling her that her wounds would soon heal quickly.

She wondered if robots, primates like chimps, dogs or dolphins would receive human-equivalent status first.

A new voice in her head told her not to worry, all living things on this planet have equal value when viewed from outer space, the interconnectedness was more important than a label applied to any one part of the global ecosystem.

She smiled at her revealing thoughts and walked on.

She had never heard that tone of voice in her head before, neither female nor male, almost disembodied, like it didn’t understand the complexities or significance of being a member of her species.

Was it God?

She had prayed to God many times, never getting a real answer, just signs in her life that perhaps God was listening and had granted her wishes but not in the way she had asked, as if God was balancing her selfish needs against those of everyone one.

Was she suffering sleep and food deprivation?

She carried the squid toward a fountain she knew was nearby.  At least there she could get a drink of water and build up her strength.

While she walked, she felt more energised with every step.

The bumps and bruises seemed to have dissipated, she thought, confused.

What is going on with me?

She brushed her cheek against the squid the way her mother’s cats used to rub against her when they were hungry.

She thought she heard, if not felt through her shoulder, an inaudible purring sound.

The squid couldn’t be alive.  Surely not!  Could it?

She paid more attention to the squid’s skin next to her face.

There!  She saw brown dots and white dots pulsing across the skin where it almost touched her face.

It was like…well, it…was the squid trying to match her skin colour?

Agirita blinked her eyes, never slowing her stride.

She had to get to that fountain!

Always testing the waters, sometimes diving in…

Lists, lists, lists.  Somewhere, probably in Italy at this time, is a person of international fame, if not fortune, who teaches and writes — Mr. Umberto Eco — a man who collects books, even if he does not read them all.

If, if, if.

I was a pledge for a fraternity to which my father belonged in his college days — Delta Tau Delta.

In the pile of papers I found yesterday, after clearing out a bunch of books I don’t need so that others may enjoy their literary/financial worth (sorry, Mr. Eco, I can’t hoard books my whole life — I must learn to let go of my physical possessions as I get closer to my natural death and the loss of all connections to our civilised lives here on Earth), a list of fellow pledges at DTD:

Name, hometown, classification/year, major, local address, local phone
Russ H., Knoxville TN, sophomore, communications, 970 Sunnydale, 693-9353
Bill Smith, Jamestown NC, sophomore, architecture, ?, 974-3843
Greg Scaione, East Brunswick NJ, freshman, political science, ?, 974-2689
David Lucas, Lexington KY, freshman, civil engineering, East Stadium Hall, x-4752
Mike Hinton, Fairfax VA, freshman, aerospace engineering, Greeve Hall, x-8098
David Rice, Knoxville TN, ?, undecided, Hess Hall, x-4062

The year was probably 1982, possibly 1983.  Like going through the ritual ceremony at DeMolay where I observed archaic symbols and recited passages I was supposed to share with no one, feeling more at ease in Boys Scout, I was turned off by Delta Tau Delta after going through the pledge/plebe ritual at Delta Tau Delta.

All that secret society mumbo-jumbo seemed outdated and also…somehow…wrong.

The same was true with some Boy Scout rituals like Order of the Arrow — the whole “rites of passage into adulthood” thing shrouded in stuff we’re not to tell young ones or those who were not deserving of being tapped out.

The only way I could keep from sharing these special words, phrases, hand signals and such was to forget what I saw and heard.

There is no privilege in rank.  Prestige is a crutch on which those without self-esteem lean, it seems, when I look at those who seek rank and privilege.

Those who do not seek but are given special rewards for their sacrifices to the greater social good are a different category.

I can understand why wise sages promote collections of instructions for social behaviour that encourage us to act naturally and let those whose natural acts selflessly benefit the species receive recognition from the rest of us.

The ant and the grasshopper.

Tomorrow or later this week, the judges who sit up high on the U.S. Supreme Court will issue their ruling about a social safety net nicknamed Obamacare.

I have seen the effects of this net, the result of national legislation, in that my mother in-law and father accrued a large cost in medical care by private practice doctors and public hospitals without having to pay a penny themselves; on the other hand, my former brother in-law has complained, amongst others, of having to pay higher out-of-pocket medical insurance premiums the last couple of years to pay for the social safety net.

The cost of running a local business in the U.S. includes socialised programs we call Social Security, Medicare and income taxes for general social government expenses, to name a few, if one has employees on the payroll, the business owner, too, that is.

A natural-born citizen takes no test or learns a secret ritual to earn full social safety net rights of citizenry.  A person not born in this country who becomes a full citizen must take a test and pledge allegiance to gain access to the social safety net legally.

I have a story to tell that takes me out of this realm of day-to-day worries about pledges and social safety nets but I am here to tell the story because of them.

In other words, a system for which I had no direct say/vote in implementing has directly benefited me very recently.  Some of the people who voted for the national legislation in Congress are members of secret societies such as fraternities, Masons, and Skull and Bones.

How many of us get full benefits of a social safety net without lifting a finger to help others in need?

Or do we give more than we receive?

Is there any way to measure our place in the economic and noneconomic portions of our society?  Does there have to be a balance or do we push our debt forward?

What if we paid it forward?

What is a secret smile shared between two strangers worth if it lifted the spirits of a dying person, lowering the need for, and thus the cost of, pain medication?

It’s about time to return to the story of Agirita and her new friend.

Their story is our story.

Allegorical, cynical, satirical.

I met a smile I liked before a metaphor is like a simile.

Rick is back for a brief moment: he thanks Chrispine, Avance, Ruth Ann, Stain, Matthew, Princess, Molly and others.

Organisational Skill Assessment

Before I compose a hand-drawn animation sequence with the Bamboo Capture graphics tablet and fill my future with out-of-date electronic debris, I finish sorting through the piles of debris that constitute the bulk of written material which emanated from this set of states of energy called me.

Watched a commencement speech by Laurie Anderson [I thought, for a public performance multimedia artist, her acting was rather stilted], which has prompted me to click my way to a website and order a copy of the book, “How to be idle,” which in turn opened my eyes to the reams of office paperwork stacked in boxes around me.

Here’s one from 03/24/98:

Kiersey Temperament Sorter Results

Your Temperament is Idealist: NF
Your variant temperament is Healer: INFP

Any Personality Test, including the Sorter is just a rough indicator of temperament.
You might want to look at different temperament descriptions to verify the results and learn about other types of people for comparison.

I+6 N+16 F+12 P+14

David M. Keirsey
keirsey@mail.orci.com

At that time in my life, the department manager was all about fitting us into jobs that matched our personalities.

What she didn’t account for was a chameleon like me, a people pleaser who assesses the wants and desires of the people around him and blends in, hiding his personality behind layers and layers of masks, revealing himself to a select few.

I told the manager I’m not who she thinks I am and she responded that was a normal reaction to the test results from an INFP like me.

Later, I learned that she gave the same response to everyone who questioned the test results.

I wasn’t questioning the test results.  I just wanted her to know that the test results indicated my exteriour in relation to giving her the test results I thought she wanted to see.

For instance, let’s say I find out my college History professor is a dopehead and adherent to the philosophy of Timothy Leary… I make sure my term paper for the class, a review of a book about socialist utopias, contains plenty of illicit drug references and hippy religious conversations.

My goals are not your goals.  My goals are outside of the time and place in which we encounter one another, so it doesn’t matter to me about the profit targets you want to reach or the edifices you want to build in your names.

Ideas and images associated with temporal moral and ethical practices are imaginary, as far as I’m concerned.

We either reproduce our genetic material or we don’t.

Everything else is fiction about how we decide to protect our reproductive organs until we’ve produced progeny that need our protection.

Me, I have only these works of art — the sketches and writings that were birthed by me with your influence, a part of the universe, upon me.

I have no genetically-related or adopted children.  The closest I got were the nieces and nephews who [might have] looked up to me as an adult member of their clan/tribe.

They are adults now.  My influence upon them diminishes as they decide how to protect their reproductive organs until they’ve produced progeny that need their protection.

One of my hidden goals was to live long enough to be a great-uncle.

I held up my step-niece’s little one-month young girl in my arms, making me the great-uncle I wanted to be ever since I was a little boy and looked up to my childless great-uncle and great-aunt who seemed to have extra spending money my parents never had, despite the great-relatives’ middle-class wages as a postman and office secretary, respectively.

I have grown tireder as I’ve aged, exercised less and eaten minimally-nutritious chemically-treated foodstuff.  I no longer want to be a model for others or someone to look up to.

It’s time to slow down and concentrate on the dreams and desires of the personality behind all the masks…

The boy who saw macabre nightmares come to life when his favourite politician of all time, Richard Nixon, resigned.

The boy who looked down at his plate of spaghetti and thought he was eating a dish full of bleached worms covered with red sauce to hide their little heads screaming for mercy.

The boy who heard the grass talk to him.

The boy who sailed the universe at night when no one was looking.

The boy who knew that stone gargoyles and cast-iron mailboxes were like three-dimensional photographs of a reality hidden inside other people’s heads, finding an outlet, me wondering where they came from before they appeared in people’s thoughts.

The boy who earned his Eagle Scout badge and went on into Explorer Scouts, later to become a Unit Commissioner, an adult role in Scouting, because he never thought he had gained his father’s love and trust, constantly seeking, seeking, seeking approval up until he reached his adult age of 18 where he received a full college scholarship via the U.S. Navy ROTC program, accepted at both Vanderbilt and Georgia Tech, but realising he no longer had to seek his father’s approval and flunked out on purpose.

I had become the man I never thought I’d be able to grow up to be.

I never was my father and never will be.

I am me.

My hidden visions, the alternate reality that I carry in my thoughts as I interact with people who seem to like to embrace the inconsistent reality of [sub/ex]urban lifestyles and belief systems, are crawling out of me and into the world in which we meet and greet one another cordially.

They are not perfect.

They are not commercialised, plastic products for mass production and insane profit margins.

I don’t even care if others steal, borrow or marginalise my work.

My work is not me but my work came from me so I associate myself with my work but I do not tie my self-worth to what I’ve written, drawn, danced, sang or sewn.

This is the only moment in which I live and I claim this moment as mine, declaring myself absolutely insane in comparison to the insanity of boxed stuff that we only call food because the pretty picture on the outside tells me it is.

Unlike Madison Avenue marketers, I don’t have to make money from my creative redefinition of ordinary life.

I can, have been and will be me, willing to use the excess capacity of our species’ social structure that produces a buffer zone outside of basic survival to express myself here and elsewhere, on paper, in blogs and wherever I feel I want to breathe what always has to be my last breath because the next one is not guaranteed.

On to the graphics tablet, building upon my first animation!!!

As an independent filmmaker said,

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is nonexistent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery – celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from – it’s where you take them to.”
—Jim Jarmusch, The Golden Rules of Filming[

Writing a short story for a book review in a History college course…

Walden Two: Just Another Religious Cult?

In the very books in which philosophers
bid us scorn fame, they inscribe their names.
——Cicero: Pro Archia XI.xxvi.

“Here it is,” I said, holding a Webster’s dictionary in my lap. “Utopia… well, there are three definitions. Which one do you want?“ I turned to my longtime friend, Jessica, and waited for a response.

She looked at me, and with a sarcastic tone, replied, “Whichever one suits you, how about that?” We often discussed the way people have the tendency to only make remarks or statements that defend their position. No one wants to be proven wrong. This time, though, I told Jessica I wanted to find out how good a utopia could be. She argued that I was not going into this project with an open mind, that I had decided long ago utopias were “nifty.” People always remember what I want them not to.

“Okay, smarty, here’s the whole definition. ‘Utopia, imaginary and ideal country in Utopia by Sir Thomas More, from Greek ou: not, no; and topos: place. One, an imaginary and indefinitely remote place. Two, often capitalized, a place of ideal perfection especially in laws, government and social conditions. Three, an impractical scheme for social improvement.’ Wait, here’s a good one, the definition for utopian socialism, ‘socialism based on a belief that social ownership of the means of production can be achieved by voluntary and peaceful surrender of their holding by propertied groups.’ That’s exactly what Walden Two is, a utopian socialist community.” I had found the definition I wanted!

“You don’t have to shout. I’m right here. So I guess you’re trying to convince me of something. First, you say a utopia is ’imaginary’ and ‘impractical.’ Then, you try to cover that up with another definition about a utopian society full of ’peaceful’ people. Can you imagine President Reagan asking everyone to peacefully give up their property and bank accounts for the good of our society? Be real.”

She’s right, I thought. There’s never going to be a…

“But don’t you see,” I burst out, “that’s what Skinner is saying. There will never be a political solution to forming an almost nonpolitical society.”

“Okay, but my point is this: do you really believe Americans are going to give up discotheques and funeral homes for SOCIALIST living? Remember, this is the land of Richard Nixon, J.C. Penney’s and apple pie. I just don’t see everyone wearing robes and traveling in buggies.”

“Very funny,” I snorted as I picked up a copy of Walden Two looking for a passage to help me out. “Listen, ’What would you do if you found yourself in possession of an effective science of behavior?’ You didn’t get the true message of the book. This isn’t a real utopian society. And, this isn’t a socialist government, either.” Jessica gave me a questioning stare. “Well, not much of one, anyway.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to write your paper on yet? I thought you were going to write about All The President’s yen…I mean, Men.”

“I was, but the professor said that 80% of the class would probably write about the same book so I decided not to do that one. I’d say everyone in the class has already read about and knows about Watergate. Too  easy.” And besides, I thought, why write a story on a great president? If I could write a convincing story on a socialist society, then I could try proving the worth of a phone—bugging president.

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I went over my notes on B.F. Skinner, searching for some supportive evidence on the idea of my paper.

Meanwhile, Jessica read the Wall Street Journal. As I looked at my notes, my mind began to wander. I asked myself, Is there such a thing as a utopia? Would anyone want it if they had it? How can there be a perfect society when we, the components of this society, aren’t perfect? Is Skinner’s ’science of behavior’ the solution to a utopian society? I just couldn’t find a reasonable answer.

“Lee,” Jessica asked, looking up from the paper, “did you know the Indian tribe that ate the first Thanksgiving dinner with the Pilgrims doesn’t exist anymore?”

Still lost in thought, I responded, “What did you say?”

“I said, did you know the Indian tribe that…”

“Hey! That’s it,” I said, nearly jumping out of my seat.

“That’s what?” was her response, angry with me for interrupting her (first) discovery. She knew I was about to go into a long monologue and she’d never be able to finish her thought.

“Didn’t you read some book about an Indian named Black Elk or some such?”

“Yeah, and…”

“Well, I seem to remember you saying Black Elk was in touch with God or some spirit. Wasn’t that his argument for returning to the tribal life, because of our losing ’harmony with God?’”

“He didn’t argue for tribal life. He just stressed the importance of a spiritual life. If you want, I can get the book for you.”

“No, that all-right. I think I have something, though. Let me find the page I’m looking for first.” I began thumbing through Walden Two. “Here it is. ‘Walden Two isn’t a religious community.’ There’s some more here somewhere… oh yeah, I don’t know if I told you but in this book, Skinner isn’t the builder of Walden Two. It’s this guy named Frazier who formed it. All through the book, Frazier is defending Walden Two against the doubts of Skinner and a colleague of his. Anyway, Frazier goes on to say, ’It would take me a long time to describe, and I’m not sure I could explain, how religious faith becomes irrelevant when the fears which nourish it are allayed and the hopes fulfilled—— here on earth. We have no need for formal religion, either as ritual or philosophy.’ Don’t you see? He’s saying the same thing that Black Elk said.”

“Uh, Lee, are you sure you know what you’re talking about?”

“Come on. You’re the one who’s studied Hinduism and Buddhism. They all have this belief in God or…what is it the call it?“

“’The absolute experience.'”

“Yeah, well, isn’t Walden Two a sort of absolute experience? I mean, according to all that’s in this book, Walden Two and the science of behavior are like the Brahman or nirvana of Hinduism. I’m not sure if Black Elk used this word but it’s like the manitou of the American Indians. They all seek to reach an ultimate goal, the perfect reality. Just think, to Christians, the reality is God and we fall short of God. Thus Christians must always try to become perfect, god—like. They believe we never will on Earth. Neither does Skinner.  His science of behavior stresses the need for improvement in every aspect of our lives. You know, the funny thing is Skinner has combined science and religion in his philosophy, and he admits this in so many words, too. Yet, he flatly denies religious beliefs in his teachings. I copied this passage out of Collier’s Encyclopedia. Read it.”

“…the aim of Indian philosophy is not a mere intellectual
apprehension of reality but an intuitive experience of it.
Emphasis is consequently put, in every system of Indian
philosophy, on the need for practical discipline. An aspirant
to philosophic wisdom must be not only intellectually alert
but also morally pure. Metaphysical contemplation is possible
only for one who has cultivated such qualities as equanimity,
self—control, and contentment. All schools of philosophy,
orthodox as well as heterodox, are agreed that a seeker after
metaphysical truth should cease from harboring a thirst for
the fleeting goods of this world, and should turn to the
eternal reality for ultimate satisfaction. When a candidate
is considered morally and emotionally ready, he enters on the
enterprise called philosophizing. Guided study, rational
reflection, and continued meditation constitute the technique
of philosophizing in India. This process continues until the
metaphysical truth is realized. That such realization can
come to one in this life is the teaching of many schools of
Indian philosophy. Even those which believe that the final
realization comes only after death nevertheless teach that he
who has received philosophic knowledge leads thereafter a
transformed life …. The integration of the new with the old
has been the technique by which Indian philosophy has grown.
In the struggle of ideas there are no vanquished. Some ideas
become dominant not be conquering others but by absorbing them
and thereby becoming richer.

While Jessica read the passage, I started realizing how far our conversation had gone. We had started talking about the possible existence of utopias. Now, I thought, we were discussing religions and philosophy. What I needed to do was explain more fully how I thought the two should be or have been combined in Skinner’s Walden Two.

“What do you think?” I asked, hoping Jessica would give me some way to finish what I wanted to say.

“Well, I studied this last fall in Religious Studies class. I still don’t see what you’re getting at.”

(Occasionally, I get people to say what I want.)

“I guess you really need to read this book to see everything I’m saying but that’s okay, I’ll tell you anyway,” I said wryly.

“Sometimes, your humor escapes me.”

“Let’s just say I feel in control right now,” not unlike Frazier in Walden Two, “and I’m in a good mood.”

“Ignoring your ego problem, what do you want to say?”

“Okay. Well, aside from the fact that a utopia is impossible…no, let me say this. I’ve been thinking about it and I decided what a utopia is. I wrote it down here somewhere…I found it. A utopia is ‘the balance between recognizing our mistakes and acting on and correcting them in the least amount of time. As long as we’re constantly striving for perfection at some maximum rate then we’re doing the best we can. Depending on what level our success rate of correcting our errors has reached, we will be in a state of utopia, not perfect, but as close as is humanly possible.'”

“Did you mean State of Utopia as in State of Tennessee?”
“NO.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I didn’t really think about it.”

“Think about it, then. I’m not going to let you get by with a thoughtless statement.”

“Uh, well, a state of utopia is kinda like being reborn as a Christian.”

“You’re still being vague,” Jessica said sternly, displaying her impatience at my not thinking through everything I’d said.

“Okay, okay. Give me a break. Let’s see…hmm. You know, Christians consider being reborn as the highest goal on Earth…and, well, everything after that is soft of a self—improvement and recruitment program.”

“Yes?”

“Well, and this is a deep subject…”

“Very funny. I’m not in the mood for your jokes right now.”

I laughed despite her anger, “You’re too much sometimes.”

“And you’re not. I’d appreciate it if you’d finish. I’m really interested.”

“Oh, sorry. What was I saying?”

“You were talking about Christians.”

“Anyway, it seems to me that Skinner is no better than anyone else who wants to be immortal.“

“I see what you’re saying but not exactly.”

“Fine, I’m not finished.” Jessica smiled when she realized how harsh she’d been and how silly we both were about our seriousness on such a light subject. I thought about the guy is Skinner’s book who had been so objective throughout the visit to Walden Two that he refused to believe he had any feelings about it.

“Before you finish, Lee, I’m curious. Do you believe all this stuff?”

“Kinda.”

“Okay, I just wanted to be sure.”

“Whatever. Where was I? Oh yeah, my question I haven’t answered. Is Skinner advocating using people for an experiment? Yes. Is he saying he’d do it? No. Well, he has a lack of faith. As I once told you, I believe there are a few men who control the direction of our world. And women, too, of course. Anyway, my goal is either to make sure these people are going in my direction — that is, where I believe the world should be going-—or that I make sure I’m one of these people. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy!”

“But don’t you see what I’m saying? If, as I think you’d agree, we live in a world of predestination, then the only way I can test this belief is to try to see where I fit in the Plan. I know this’ll sound stupid but if I don’t fit in the Plan the Plan doesn’t exist. If there is no Plan then my belief is wrongly founded. I do, however, have faith in my fellow human, and that if one is told to do something, he will know whether to do it. If there’s no Plan, then I want to help make sure that I am there to tell people what is and what will be so they’ll know what to do. Am I making sense?”

“Yes, but I hope you don’t believe you’re as perfect as you just made yourself out to be.”

“No, no, no. I don’t believe I’m perfect. I never will be, you know that. But I feel I know a number of things, that together with other people, you included, by the way, we will help head humanity in the right direction.”

“If there is no Plan?”

“Right.”

“Okay, what do you believe is your place in the Plan?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Guess.”

“Well, that the goal I choose in this life is already known and I will do what’s right in accomplishing that goal.”

“That’s it?”

“No. Also I believe these people who control the world don’t really control it. I mean they have been chosen by God, or whatever you want to call the Creator, they have been chosen to pass messages on to the people as to what to do. We all have the choice to how we’re going to accomplish that goal on the whole. Yet, there are a certain number of people in the world who have the responsibility to make sure general objectives are carried out. As you’re probably thinking, mistakes are going to be made. I feel God has left a lot of room for mistakes, and thus, of course, for improvement. Who knows, Hitler may have been one of the chosen people. In a way, we’re all responsible. In a way, it’s the preservation of the species, but it’s more than that — it’s improvement of the species for the improvement of the universe.”

“You’ve never told me this before. When did you think of all this?“

“I hope you won’t get mad but I’ve been saying it as I’ve thought it. I’ve been fighting for the right words for months, though. I still haven’t gotten all my beliefs into perspective, though I know they fit in the same picture.”

“You know something, Lee. This has been a neat conversation.”

“I’m still not finished, though.“

“How much more do you have? I’d rather wait if you’re just going to keep making things up as you go. No offense, of course.”

“None taken, my dear. No, I do have a few more definite things to say.”

“Okay but hurry. We only have a little while before we have to go.”

“Have we decided what to do?”

“I thought we were going to see ’The Wall’.”

“Oh, that’s right. Which reminds me——do you think Skinner took acid, from what I’ve said about him?”

“What do you think?“ she asked, smiling.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,“ I replied, knowing her answer intuitively. We often communicated ideas and feelings without actual words. “Anyway, I believe Skinner sees himself as one of these chosen people. From what I can gather, I believe he is, too. Just by reading this book, I understand him to say that all religions are a science of behavior. He even said that the control is in the hands of the wrong people. I believe there are nor wrong people just those who, for one reason or another, have chosen the wrong goals in their lives. Skinner also comments that Jesus was a ’personal emissary’ sent to reveal God’s plans to put God’s people ’back on the track.’ Here’s what Frazier said in the book. Oh, in the book he as the one show said that about Jesus. Anyway, Frazier said, ’”0f course I’m not indifferent to power,” Frazier said hotly. “And I like to play God! Who wouldn’t under the circumstances? After all, even Jesus Christ thought he was God!”’”

“I hate to cut you short ,Lee…”

“No you don’t,” I said, laughing at a joke of ours. We’ve always kidded people who say “I hate to say this but…” because they do want to say it.

“Yes, but you haven’t decided what you’re going to do your paper on, and we got off track a bit from utopias, don’t you think?”

“You just brought us back, didn’t you?”

“Everything goes in a circle,“ we said in unison, laughing.

Swashbuckler, “the magazine for mad people”

While clearing off my desk to create space for a graphics tablet, I found a stack of some papers of a previous life (before marriage), including a laboratory book from an “Analytical Chemistry” class, notes from a computer programming class, material from a Sociology class and bunches of my writing, including the following copies of one of my underground magazines called Swashbuckler, a spoof of the ETSU college newspaper and poke at the ETSU literary magazine, with devoted fans from whom I accepted guest writing from time to time.

Swashbucker – Volume 2 – Number 1