Puzzled. Soluble. Solution.

Many data points to ponder, wondering if they connect at all, in no particular order:

  • The definition of work
  • The definition of meaningfulness and its varieties
  • The percentage of what we currently call our species who participate in the social framework we call the economy
  • The percentage of what we currently call our species who participate as “workers” in the social framework we call the economy
  • The percentage of what we currently call our species who participate as “workers” in the form of “employees” in the social framework we call the economy
  • The percentage of what we currently call our species who participate as “workers” in the form of “employers” in the social framework we call the economy
  • The definition of fully/partially employed
  • The definition of [independent] [sub]contractor
  • The definition of living wage
  • The alternative to participating in the economy in the form of a [non]fulfilling life
  • What does independently living off the land mean when extraterritorial entities claim watch over the land on which you live and demand their definition of recompense from you for watching over/caring for you in the form of services/physical infrastructure you may or may not use?
  • How many people have no comprehension of the following statement?: “Citizens of a nation demand that their employers must pay the citizens as employees no less than $15/hour to manufacture products/services profitably.”
  • What does employable mean?
  • What does poverty mean?
  • What [kind of] right does a person have who lives on land which an extraterritorial entity claims watch over, for that person, to claim the extraterritorial entity provide equitable access to education/employment opportunities for that person that other people have created for themselves with or without [in]direct support by the extraterritorial entity?
  • Is there such a thing as a perpetual cycle of poverty/technological* illiteracy?
  • Is there such a thing as a perpetual cycle of wealth?
  • How much accumulated wealth is too much?
  • Is there a fair argument that no family/corporate entity has lasted virtually forever?
  • How many people can’t or don’t want to work in the economy?
  • How many people want to work in the economy but can’t find/create work?
  • Why are some people content devoting much of their waking energy to working in jobs for others?
  • Why are some people driven to work for themselves and/or have others work for them?
  • At what number of employees and average wage can a company in a particular industry compete locally/nationally/regionally/globally and still remain in business (i.e., generate enough profit to operate (assuming that intentionally operating at a loss is not a goal for this question))?
  • Should the un/underemployed be broken down by physical/mental characteristics/categories for problem-solving purposes?
  • Should the impact of a slower/smaller economy on the environment weigh into keeping wages/employment below capacity?
  • What level of disruption by one group of people will have to take place on another group of people and/or the extraterritorial entity which watches over them both to encourage/introduce change desired by the first group but not necessarily the second?
  • Will the impact of sleepiness stop the questions being written by this author on this one?

*Language is as much a technology as the logical combination of ones and zeroes that create this WYSIWYG user interface on the Internet.

Missing jigsaw pieces

Listening to the cries of my people, I hear them bemoan the loss of coal mining jobs they blame on U.S. President Obama while watching his cronies — Tiger Woods, LeBron James, Jay Z, Beyoncé, Al Gore, etc. — live lavish lives. I can hardly blame U.S. Representative Mo Brooks for speaking to his constituents and saying that Democrats are demonizing white people because perception is reality.

By adopting the conservative thought patterns of my parents and their friends, the feeling of being persecuted by the media is easy to let pass through my visage while watching my elderly cat slowly fade away.

I feel unloved, wanting revenge against death itself but have no relaxing outlet like Netanyahu has Palestinians to slaughter at his leisure.

In moments like this, my internal ugliness, the Berserker of my Viking heirs, picks up this electronic pen and stabs the pages with hateful words.

If celebrities, politicians and captains of industry want to splurge on luxury homes, yachts and multimillion-dollar weddings, then I say let’s party till the house of a planet burns down and return this planet to the blue-green algae again.

Eat, drink and be merry for surely tomorrow more than one of us seven-plus billion will die!

My wife’s family memories

Where are your family memories stored?

For my wife, they’re kept in many places, not just in the synaptical, neuronic electrochemical impulses of a single central nervous system.

Some are stored here, at the cemetery in Stony Point, Tennessee, next to New Providence Presbyterian Church:

New Providence Presbyterian Church panorama





…where naturally-aged gravestones tell the story of time in more ways than one:


Carmack-John-gravesite-2007-12-27 - wide-shot










…and verify information stored in the Forgey Family Bible, of which my wife is the current keeper:










Those memories make my wife happy and when she’s happy, I’m happy!

Hope your grandkids enjoy the hot weather next century

Time for grumpy man to appear.

I’m of mixed opinion here. As much as I enjoy reading various authors’ work, I care a little bit about our species’ contribution to climate change (formerly known as global warming, not Prince) but if the authors who have kids are going to burn fossil fuel for frivolous holidays, then I say let Rome burn — if they don’t care about their children’s future, why should I?

How many people talk about caring for the environment while eating plastic food, getting plastic surgery, and driving plastic cars but putting a few plastic bottles on the curb for recycling each week like trying to stop a tsunami with a pitchfork?

Okay, grumpy man stump speech is over.

Might be time to go see one of them talkie moving picture shows to let my back heal from too much heavy lifting while recycling reclaimed lumber.

Best you pray for a giant volcano eruption to cool the planet for a few decades, eh?

A Writer’s Secret

Thought to self: do not fixate on any one idea or image that bobs to the surface of one’s pool of consciousness before spinning out of the eddy and disappearing into the mainstream.

Which person will connect the dots between Chinese senior citizens collecting recyclable trash, Central American children escaping unstable societies, Carlos Slim suggesting part-time work is good for you, Bill Gates suggesting an old collection of New Yorker short stories to read, Elon Musk selling a “people’s car” version of the Tesla and Erin Kennedy organising a robot party?

What about the algae that gives the atmosphere the oxygen we need to breathe?  How much water and algae do we need off-planet to terraform our new digs?

I saw the first USPS vehicle making deliveries on Sunday driving down our street just now — what Amazon purchase was so important that it had to arrive before Monday morning?

I essentially quit hanging out in the virtual community known as Facebook, having checked in a couple of times since I quit because I didn’t have contact information for people outside of Facebook.  Once that was completed, my time spent on Facebook is over.  Although I enjoyed communicating with people in that social media space, I lost track of me, spending more time managing my Facebook personality than spending with the flesh-and-blood body that has to eat and breathe.

Primarily, since I was a young child, I have lived in and with my thoughts.  I learned to convert thinking into writing, and then examined the labels of “thinking” and “writing” to discover for myself why I am the center of my own universe.

I never stop eating and breathing but I sometimes stop being me in order to please the person in me who thinks he has to please other people enough so they don’t see the real me who’d rather sit in a nest of his thoughts than listen to others’ opinions that I have to pick through to find something in common that minimises controversy, lessening the chance that I have to stay connected to a person for longer than I have to.

I am not unique.  I compromise like many people.  Even these sentences are a form of compromise, walking the minefield of libel, slander and inflammatory comments I could make were I less civilised.

I write because it’s the quickest form of communication for me to scan when I want to return to previously-recorded thought trails of mine.

Time to close my eyes and remove myself from words, experiencing the living minideath of meditation that sometimes becomes sleep, the temporary suicide of self that rejuvenates me enough that I can stand to be around people again for a while.