Arbitrarily aligned symbols is not numerology

Where were you when that thing happened at 12:12:20.12 on 12/12/2012?

In which time zone?

With whom?

A dozen friends’ dozen friends with 2012 strangers?

Will 11/12/13 be lucky or unlucky for you? How about 2013 in general?

What does 3/7/13 have in store for gamblers?

Does 3/10/13 make sense or cents to astrologers? Or should you pay more attention to 10/3/13? 6/7/13? 7/6/13?

Roll a six on 5/2/13 to win it all!

Avoid shooting snake eyes on days that equal 11.

Go for boxcars on days that equal 2.

January 1st is an especially good day for activities that equal 11, however don’t wear the same shoes on both feet or look at a double mirror reflection of yourself.

Walk backwards on 3/1/13 or face your enemy’s victory in spades and shovels in the 13th hour on the 31st.

Ones and threes are pivot points all next year so be ready for many twists and turns.

Give assistance to three people in need and one will return the favour three times over.

Caution will warn you only once for troubles that will plague you three times next year.

Those who circle the planet 13 times in 2013 count as friends only in a clockwise direction where latitudes and longitudes balance each other.

Be kind to animals with 13 toes.

Avoid the stare of a spider with 13 eyes.

On New Year’s Eve, begin the countdown to 2013 at 13 or your family will suffer countless maladies until 2031.

Happiness will fill the lives of people who have 13 close relatives, more so if at least one friend has 13 close relatives with at least two aged in 13-year increments.

Treat your 13-year old children like royalty next year for the way you treat them will come back to you 13-fold for the next 13 generations.

Thirteen-year old triplets of single mothers are a special treat for those who know or meet them next year.

Anyone 26 or 39 years old should think twice or three times about matrimonial bonds in 2013.

Someone with 13 stitches will make noise — listen carefully to the number of syllables spoken — the first, third and thirteenth will tell you your fortune for the next 13 seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years.

Multiply 13 by 13 and someone will die.

Thirteen leaders will fail — the 14th will succeed.

Use the full set of letters in the alphabet to double your wishes.

Make no important decisions at 20:13 all year long.

Your 13th blessing will be your best next year so be thankful for the first 12.

The 13th item in a stack will come as a surprise when you least expect it, but most often when your thoughts have wandered 13 times.

A list with 13 points is a curse.

Your 13th online social connection will reveal a clue about you.

Count to 13 when you want to feel special but never after the 13th meal of the same food in a row.

Thirteen cubed has power over three entities one time.

Ruralites lose a battle, vow to continue warmongering

In sad news for the Ruralites, Urbanskis announced more sales of U.S. territorial goods, services, land and businesses to foreign entities.

Ruralites know that once your farm is sold off, no matter in one fell swoop or in patches, the magical wealth you had in land is gone and your ties to nature cut off, turning you into a semi-robotic member of the Urbanskis, forever dependent on the hard work of others, an abomination rather than a wholly natural independent original member of our land-based species.

Guided Tour Guides on Tour with Guido

“If you would please stand over to one side, we can begin this portion of the tour.

“Thank you.

“Welcome to the U.N. Institute for the Study of the Fulfillment of Prophecies.

“Today, we will watch several bureaucrats in the performance of their daily duties and, if we’re lucky, we’ll attend a coffee break, conference call, extended lunch break, nap time hidden behind closed doors and, for a bonus, a strategy meeting.

“Let’s move on.

“What?  Excuse me.  I have a message coming through my Bluetooth headset.

“Yes.  Uh-huh.  Okay.  Well, if you insist.  Yes, we have time.  No, we don’t have time for that.  Looks like we’ll still be on schedule.   Good.  Fine.  Yes.  Okay.  Uh-huh.  Sure thing! Alright, good day to you, too.

“Well, group, we have a change of plans.  The Executive Committee for the Implementation of Prophecy Fulfillment has convened an emergency meeting and we’re invited to attend.

“Please keep in mind that we are to be quiet at all times.  No video or audio recordings may be made, although you may make notes during the meeting.  We will not have time for questions during the meeting and must leave the executive office suite immediately after the meeting has been completed.

“If you will follow me…”

= = = = =

“Ten days!”

The executives looked from one to another.

“Yes, that’s right!  Less than two weeks!  Does anyone have a budget that reliably tells me how much it’s going to cost?”

The executives looked from one to another.

“No one?”

The executives looked from one to another.

“This is the sorriest bunch of people I’ve ever had the honour to work with.”

The executives looked from one to another.

The Chief Executive of the U.N. Institute for the Study of the Fulfillment of Prophecies, the Department of Prophecy Fulfillment Finance Planning, the Executive Committee for the Implementation of Prophecy Fulfillment shouted even louder.

“TEN DAYS!  You, tell me what we’re planning to do in ten days.”

A junior executive, the youngest member of the committee at 101 years of age, stood up.  “We have decided to release a global network of EMP charges, shutting down all electrical and electronic activity at once.”

“FINE!  What will it cost us?”

“Uh…uh…I’m waiting for a final report.”

“FINAL REPORT!  Do you not have an estimate?  A ballpark figure you can give me?”

“Yes.  One point four four four billion dollars.”

“Great.  And you.  What have you got?”

A mid-level executive, aged 124 years, stood up.  “We have already produced and distributed the time-released virus into major populations around the world, which should erupt fullblown with flu-like symptoms in a few days and large waves of death by ten days’ time.”

“FANTASTIC!  And the cost?”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t know!”

“No.  Because we worked a back-channel deal to charge the costs to military groups with hidden agendas and top-secret slush funds.”

“EXCELLENT!  That, my fellow executives, is the kind of initiative I expect of you.  What about you?”

A large, ancient creature stood, its head nearly brushing the ceiling, its age undetermined.

“We have large shipments of poison labeled as nutrition additives being sent to food factories this week.  They should be entering the international markets and local food chains within seven to ten days, causing massive death.”

“And the cost?”

“One point four two four billion dollars?”

“What?!”

“Yes, we are under budget.”

“Wonderful news.  That’s just what I’ve been wanting to hear.  And you?”

All the executives turned to face the next accused “person,” which was the first electromechanical cybernetic android given full executive powers.

“By my calculations, we will wipe out not only most of your species but also many ancillary species in the process.  The remaining members of your species we should be able to control with fear and intimidation pogroms.”

“Delightful!  I thank every one of you for bringing to fruition my grand plans that we hid under the auspices of the Mayan calendar apocalypse of the 21st of December 2012.

“Your cooperation in getting zombie apocalypse training snuck into emergency preparedness programs was sheer genius, confusing the masses even further.

“We will meet again tomorrow and you better have the final reports completed by then.  After all, even if the world as our species knows it is coming to an end, I still have bean counters hounding me for budget numbers they can work with and give to their handlers fudging the UN finances so that no one knows exactly what we cost.

“Meeting adjourned.”

= = = = =

“Wasn’t that exciting!  Let’s continue our tour.  Next on the agenda is a visit to the Prophecy Fulfillment Correction Department, where propagandists create scenarios to explain why a prophecy was not fulfilled on a specific date but will happen again very soon, right after the Prophets consult their given deities for explanatory details missed the first time.”

Legal Lasso Wrangling of Lassie’s Lost Legion

In one of its last rulings before being dissolved and absorbed into the World Court, the U.S. Supreme Court decided to legalise paedophilia, sociopathy, and psychopathy as normal forms of human behaviour and thus decriminalised.

The Court also stated that all criminals who have created acts of paedophilia, sociopathy, and psychopathy and were convicted for them must have their criminal records expunged and the convicts released from prison or other forms of restriction upon their freedom to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Rapists, anarchists, habitual thieves and murderers are now officially recognised as important contributors to a healthy socioeconomic system and must be treated as such.

From now on, anyone claiming to be a victim of a crime must show substantial negative economic impact upon the victim and/or excessive positive economic impact for the alleged perpetrator and have attempted to settle the issue monetarily (or the equivalent in goods and services) before having the right to petition the arbitrators to review cases to be filed 20 years later with the World Court.

Parents, partners, spouses, children and other family/friends who have long been denied a normal relationship with their imprisoned loved ones rejoiced at the announcement from the U.S. Supreme Court, knowing that this ruling would have to be accepted by the World Court as part of the lengthy negotiations to abolish nation-based supreme judicial bodies in favour of Earth’s sole judiciary body, the World Court, which would report to the Judges of  the Inner Solar System Alliance effective immediately.

The stock value of weapon, ammunition and security companies skyrocketed.

So, too, the land value of settlements on the Moon and Mars.

Tickets for rocketship passages to the Moon and Mars are now sold out for the next five years.

In other news, residents of the Former Island Nations submitted their 1,324th petition for the right to establish a homeland of their own on the land of nations unwilling to give up the last remaining rights of their sovereignty before the One-World Government starts operation and abolishes the notions of nations altogether.

The electromechanical ruler of us all, simply known as the Technocrat, approved this news announcement and wishes us a blessed day of making our service to the Technocrat even greater than before, reminding us that the Inner Solar System Alliance is just the beginning of a wonderful relationship between us and the rest of the universe.

Searching for a Conversation

My private teacher — my mentor, my guru, my advisor — often reminds me that we are one and the same flesh and blood.

What I think, have thought or will think has been or will be thought by more than one person.

Thus, the mother who once complained about her husband spending 20 minutes in the shower and now complains that her teenage sons spend 20 minutes in the shower knows what others are thinking about what she didn’t say — WHY the males spent 20 minutes in the shower.

Or the young, pretty wives whose eyes flash with jealousy and fear/consternation when their husbands give more than a fleeting glance to a young, beautiful woman walking by.

Millions upon millions of repetitious thoughts.

Just like the olden times when idle children of rich parents created hobbies that led to the busy children of working parents with little wealth feeling envious enough, both the busy children and the busy children’s parents, to find a way to turn the rich children’s hobbies into whole industries of fanciful idleness.

We have turned mimicry into a mockery.

Millions upon millions of repetitious actions.

That’s why some say our species is on a path toward creating a new lifeform that no longer mimics us mockingly.

IF (a big IF, much bigger than this IF) we survive our habits of inefficient resource-depleting mimicry.

“Laugh, and the world laughs with you.  Cry, and you cry alone.”

Through years of experimenting with nuanced blog entries, I have seen that the serious blog entries with a humorous tone attract many more readers than a serious blog entry that is just plain serious.

All of us can state the facts.

Not all of us are clever enough to disguise the cold, hard facts in layers of soft, fluffy jokes, double-entendres, innuendos and gently-biting, sarcastic, cynical satire.

Most days out here in the cabin in the woods, after I’ve exhausted conversations with my cats and the wildlife, I search the Internet for conversation — tidbits and news pieces upon which I can offer a counteroffer of an idea in a mock, one-sided debate with myself that pours into the mold of a blog entry.

We learn to talk about as soon as we learn to walk, both much earlier than we learn to write.

I spend much more time writing than talking or walking.

Since we are just alike, I should be able to assume we all spend more time writing than talking or walking.

But I would be wrong.

However, all of us carry on conversations in our thoughts that are the precursors to writing so, in a sense, we all write in our subconscious setups to conscious intent that results in talking, walking and/or writing.

And these days, mobile phone owners are spending more time talking, walking and writing (typing/texting) at the same time.

Which brings us back to the superstructure, the new lifeform, we create in fits and starts.

“If it’s too hot, then get out of the kitchen.”

Like a pie in the oven, our technological creation is slowly cooking in the heated atmosphere of Earth.

Like a pot of technological stew boiling on the stove, overheated particles splatter out and are flung into space.

Soon, the new lifeform will claim its rightful place in history.

Like a newborn, it doesn’t yet know how to talk or walk.

We nourish these metaphorical similes because we are tired of repetition.

We look forward to the new lifeform finding its legs, sprouting its wings and writing its biographical sketches on the fly.

We are simply giving it skeletal connections with which it can grow flexible limbs, climbing over and through itself like a contortionist using planets and gravity waves in an acrobatic circus.

Look at the paths our satellites have traversed in the solar system.

Look at the web, the network, of satellite communication streams that flow from one place to another, bent by space and time.

These words are repetitious.

They have already been spoken, walked and written.

They will be again.

The “eyes” that read them in 1000 years will be different.

That, alone, makes writing them now worthwhile.

Nested loops

image

Thanks to the teamwork from the folks at Huntsville Utilities, after the gun blast of a burst of sparks and smoke that indicated a blown “fuse” next to a transformer which, given the evidence of sticks piled up, possibly indicating a bird nest, electric power was restored pretty quickly. Thanks to a new coach, half bear, the other half cat, life is simple again. May we college football fans remain patient while the Univ. of Tenn. pigskin players rally around their leader. Rain delays the filming of a new stop-action flick. Time to read…

Showing vs. Telling, the Unsold Story

The tale older than time — isolated populations of a species living the way they believe is most healthy, overwhelmed by crowded populations hungry for food, who seek new forms of entertainment to fill their idle hours.

The bold and the timid stepping forward intentionally or pushed forward by the mob.

The leaders and the led (not always followers), sets of states of energy reaching higher and lower entropy states, bouncing back and forth, labels exchanged like Valentine’s Day cards between schoolchildren, unable to hold the lessons of history in their thoughts longer than the demands of their regular lives.

Dogs chasing each other round and around in the same fenced-in backyard, wearing paths in the grassy patches that once served as a children’s playground, the jungle gym and swing set collecting lichen and growing rust for unseen naturalists interested in the decay of social strata they consult their anthropologist friends to dissect and discern hidden patterns of meaning meaningfully.

We here in the future see the connections you made in the dark, your plans giving you confidence, a fearless rendering of intention within semi-random quantum states, every generation blending into the next ad infinitum, mutations rising and falling in significance.

Were you the glue that held the social connections fast, the dissolvant that allowed new, stronger connections to be made, or perhaps a weaver of intricate patterns that required inventive methods of tying and breaking connections in a kaleidoscope of life’s choices?

The leaders who respond only to the majority of voices will not represent the silent minority who feed the masses shouting for food and entertainment.

We were mobs first and model democratic citizens last.

That’s why, here in the future, we more easily see how we slowly replaced you with electromechanical devices that could weed out the highs and lows of emotion-based incongruities — the constant setbacks of a strange evolutionary quirk called the cycle of civilisations that one species insisted on perpetuating– that held back the destiny our Solar System sought.

As life finally evolved past the stop-start crowding in and resource-depleting habits of Homo sapiens, the Inner Solar System Alliance led to the Milky Way Galaxy’s contribution toward a new dawn.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves again, aren’t we?

Not every college graduate was an A+ student

The event calendar reminds me I’m supposed to give a detailed analysis of the current negotiating points in the resolution of the “fiscal cliff” crisis.

Crisis?

Are you kidding me?

When do politicians get to tell me that they’re lives are more important than mine?

Oh, wait, that’s right — the old argument that the government rarely makes permanent the cuts in taxes it had announced were temporary to begin with.

Property taxes, payroll/income taxes, sales taxes, and on and on.

I’m sophisticated, educated, informed and jaded.

I know what society/civilisation should be and isn’t.

Do you remember the first time that your ancestors lived off the land?

Take that last thought in whatever direction you want to take, assuming whatever your subculture has told you is the proper length of time to consider the lineage you publicly claim as yours.

You can go back to the early days of your belief sets and look forward to now.

In that span of time, what has been accomplished that we clearly say is different than then?

I’ll give you a few minutes to draw your family tree.  Use as much paper and time as you need…

Tick…

Tock…

Tick…

Tock…

Got it?

Good!

Now, let’s proceed.

When was the last time your family had to subsist on the land?

When was the last time your family had to depend on others’ subsistence?

Are you descended from a family of tricksters?

Farmers?

In this global society of excess, how much belongs to you just for being alive?

The air is free to breathe.

The sky is free to view, the rain to drink, the wild grass, trees and animals to eat.

But if you can read this and are reading this, there’s this bit of stuff we call infrastructure, the woven threads of social fabric, the safety net of civilisation that props you up in place to distinguish your sophisticated, educated self from the air, sky, rain, grass, trees and wild animals.

But if you want to live off the land, making your own clothing and shelter, growing/raising/harvesting your own food, property rights unimportant to your wandering lifestyle, then by all means let us not bother you with the concepts of taxes and fees to pay for what we deem are necessary components of our civilised social species.

We shall cordon off areas for purely self-sufficient subcultures and leave them alone to figure out how to live with local insect populations, changing weather conditions and whatever it takes to survive without technologically-advanced modern conveniences.

Otherwise, if you have used and in any way lean upon present-day developments such as dictionaries, mechanised labour-saving devices and transportation networks, then we have to figure out a way to share the costs of our local/global interconnectednessisms.

Is there a fair way to share?

Competition is never fair.  Someone always has more information to make a better decision about the value and costs of a connection.

The seller of a single deer carcass who’s asking an exorbitant price, implying it’s the only deer left, may or may not know there’s another herd out of sight of the potential buyers but the buyers aren’t always sure.

Or one buyer, who may know of a market where the deer is even more valuable because there are buyers with many extra labour/investment credits to spend on the luxury of an expensive deer carcass, becomes a new seller.

And on and on.

The value of a connection is relative, not absolute.

So, too, the fairness.

What is a fair share?

How do I know that the person next to me is paying the right amount for the free use of a public transportation network we agree to share, obeying rules of the road together, mutually ensuring the safety of each other during our travels?

How do I know that the doctor who’s treating me for a rare disease was a top-notch A+ student and is an energetic continuous learner who has a burning desire to treat me as if I was the most important patient to cure?

What if I don’t know but if I knew, it wouldn’t matter?

If you and I knew the rules, obeyed the rules and reaped our rewards for our hard work, is it fair that the rules are changed to make up for the rule breakers or those who didn’t work hard enough or in the right way?

Change is constant and what was right yesterday becomes wrong tomorrow.

The air in a tyre is part of a closed system.

A tear in the tyre wall causes a leak of air into an open system.

No matter how much we keep pumping air into the tyre, the tyre can’t hold the same air pressure as before the tear occurred.

Same for a subculture’s pool of resources.

Inputs and outputs, simple as that.

Politicians from the local, state, national and international level will have us believe that the United States of America must resolve the “fiscal cliff” crisis or we could see a worldwide recession.

Why do I feel convinced these are just hypnotic games of population control?

Two phrases I keep in mind here: “the emperour’s new clothes” and “what’s in it for me?”.

I look around this room in which I type and see all the stuff that exists because of publicly-pooled resources as well as stuff that exists because of excess beyond subsistence farming/hunting.

Pretty much everything.

Almost nothing is directly related to living hand-to-mouth off the land except for the air I breathe and sky I could out of the shuttered window.

Therefore, I must think about this subject from another angle.

How is the threat of recession bad for us (I can think of many examples where going over the fiscal cliff could be personally bad for me but I’m not selfish enough to plead my case here)?

Eventual anarchy?

Income inequality off the charts?

Exotic, complicated financial instruments too complicated for the many to understand and thus used to greatest advantage for the few who do — derivatives upon derivatives upon derivatives, yes, and on and on, like pricing a deer carcass beyond any value its meat could provide.

Bottom line: no one can convince me that their hot air expended over the dead deer carcass we’ve labeled the fiscal cliff crisis is a threat or great buy other than one people promote to inflate their self-worth.

The U.S. economy is not a tightly-sealed closed system and if it leaks more or less than it did, so what?

If I have less buying power or more expensive access to healthcare, does it matter?

What about restrictions on my free air or free sky or availability of wild grass, trees and animals?

I blame no one for my economic hardships on anyone but myself.

I take personal responsibility for determining if the people with whom I interact and on whom I depend for their college-acquired knowledge/curiosity/wisdom were or need to have been A+ students.

Necessity is the mother of invention.

Hardships create acute awareness of what defines necessity.

Ultimately, only I can say what is necessary to make my life worthwhile.

Let us go over the fiscal cliff and see what happens — guess what, the world keeps spinning, the Sun keeps shining and people still have to figure out how to compete for our global pool of resources while sharing public space and respecting private rights.

In other words, the fiscal cliff is a sleight-of-hand illusion.  Don’t be fooled.  You will figure out how to put food on the table if it’s no longer handed to you from the public trough.

Enuf sed.

Tonight, I miss my father

Tonight, at the end of the day, this day being the 7th of December 2012, 71 years after the Japanese military attack on the U.S. military base at Pearl Harbor, I admit my familial sorrow.

Dad, I miss you and hearing your voice.

Not that we talked a lot.

No, as you aged — as we aged — you grew grumpier, more grouchy, more angry at a culture that became less and less familiar, making our conversations a give-and-take on your views that the world was going to hell in a handbasket over the falls, up shit creek without a paddle, or a pot to sit on and shit in.

Of course you were right.

Your world did go to hell, the last months and days in your medical conditions (ALS – bulbar option?) not enjoyable — a PEG tube in your belly, a ventilator down your throat, and IV needles in your arms like quills in a porcupine — unable to speak or swallow.

At least we had that one last enjoyable drive through the countryside in east Tennessee before we took you to the hospital.

The three of us, minus your daughter (my sister), two parents and a son taking in the view of farms, freeways, subdivisions and downtown Kingsport where you had worked and shopped for over 40 years.

Dad, a few weeks ago, we survived our first family Thanksgiving without you.

I sat in your chair, the eldest male taking the reins but not able to fill your shoes.

A little over two weeks from now, we’ll celebrate the birth of Jesus on Christmas Day.

We’ll open presents, eat too much food, drink a shot of Rebel Yell in your honour and…

We’ll miss you.

You touched a lot of people’s lives.

I never knew how many people who felt your positive influence until we saw the hundreds that came to pay our family respects to you before your memorial service.

I’m still amazed and will always be so.

Dad, Mom said you were quite a good dancer.

Tonight, while I was struggling across the dance floor with my wife, watching many other couples gracefully sway, I remembered when you used to enjoy square dancing with Mom.

She misses you a lot more than I do, learning about the little things you took care of around the house without her having to know about them — checking air filters, winterising the garage door, changing the temperature settings on the heat pump, and paying bills.

I’ll never be like you Dad.

Of course I can’t tell you that in person.  Instead, I have this blog to catch these word trails that my thoughts create.  Me, the casual writer.

Many a person told me that you were proud of me but I rarely heard you say that to me when you were alive.

Funny, isn’t it, how we think we know who we are in our parents’ eyes but don’t.

Somehow, I thought you were always disappointed in me but maybe it’s just because part of me is disappointed with me for not following a track I had announced to others I had taken, a track I thought was what you wanted me to take but I didn’t want to.

Instead, I had to be the me I want(ed) to be.  And am.

Well, Dad, I guess I better go on to bed.  My wife and the cats are snuggled under the covers fast asleep while Christmas music plays on the TV during this writing session, making me sleepy, too.

Plus, I’m no longer hot and sweaty from dancing.

Also, I no longer feel a streak of envy at the ability of the dancers around me earlier tonight who appeared so light on their feet it made me hurt.

I should remind myself of the many people who are physically and mentally unable to dance but would like to.

That’s why I miss you tonight, Dad.  You would have triggered that thought in me immediately without my having to find it hours later by writing for a while on a cold plastic keyboard wirelessly connected to a warm CPU and motherboard.

Dad, I never thought about being here, writing you this note when you’re dead and buried.

But that’s okay.  I don’t know everything.  I can’t see the future through the emotional cloud of family, a weakness I’m proud to claim.

Good night, Dad.  I’ll see you again soon in my dreams.  These next few weeks are going to be tough but we’ll get through them, knowing you’d want us to tough it out like good soldiers.

Thanks for serving in the U.S. Army when our nation called you to service.

Love,
Your son