There are insults and there are insults…

During the election season, we get primetime slime, lame duck sauce and politically impolite pokes at the opponents’ staff of out-of-work scriptwriters looking for a handout every four years.

But, if you want real insults and perhaps not necessarily ones that your virginal mother or saintly son wants to hear, watch these videos:

Meanwhile, we wait for a response from the SOS signal sent out into the universe…

Double Sided Sales Slip Customer Copy

A couple of kids protesting in a church on the other side of the planet taught me that if you want to play with fire, be prepared for the consequences.

A musician who’s part of a corporatised musical group playing officially-sanctioned anti-corporate lyrics taught me that hypocrisy knows no cultural bounds.

You see, I’m all about the power of the people.

But keep in mind that my goal is to move the wealth of many thousands of millionaires and billionaires out of reach of the people.

The “people,” of course, is a meaningless term that can be used positively or derogatorily: “We the people…” or “you people,” and its many forms used to provoke crowds in time for [re]election.

The people get used a lot, don’t they/we?

Keep people distracted while we prepare…

Well, I’m not supposed to tell you what’s being prepared, am I, if I am to maintain this storyline?

Let’s imagine a few possible futures:

  1. It’s clear that changing the habits of billions of people to save themselves from themselves is not going to happen when so much profit is at stake, including just good enough profit to feed the mouths of billions of people.  If you had the opportunity, would you set up a location for your friends and family that is safe from invasion by non-heavily armed people and sufficient to provide you a livable subculture/ecosystem while the rest of the world was experiencing major/negative climate change?
  2. You have great wealth at your disposal and you believe that the global economy is your friend so you spend your billions of dollars trying to improve local economies which, in turn, improve the global economy, increasing not only your chance for survival but the whole world’s, too.
  3. You and your friends in private and public businesses have been testing the theory that living off-world is a sure way to hedge your bets about Earth’s climate change and any detrimental effects it may have on your way of life.  You encourage the use of public funds to affirm your theory while you amass the resources you need to build off-world colonies.
  4. Your family has lived in relative poverty for generations.  You have competed against your peers and created a small empire — it’s time to enjoy the fruits of your labour, cost no object in pursuing a life of luxury.
  5. Your family has lived in the peace and comfort of middle-class living for generations — no reason for you to change the course of history.
  6. Poverty means nothing in your subsistence lifestyle.  Words like “blog” and “computer” do not exist in your language full of nature-based terminology.

All of us are familiar with these scenarios, through personal experience, from someone we know or by popular culture references.

In telling the story of our species in relation to the humongous universe in which we barely understand we live, tying these subplots together is interesting some days and boring on other days.

However, it’s all I have to work with here.

Like going from static cartoon strips to creating animated daily cartoons in writing, if not drawing.

Protestors with machetes will most often lose to security guards with guns, who will always, always, always claim self-defense after discharging their weapons and killing protestors.

My question is this: if the commander in-chief claims credit for killing a notorious villain, does he also take credit for the most number of military suicides of any commander in-chief during his time in office?  If your military has some of the lowest morale on record, then I, in honouring my father’s legacy, have to ask myself why anyone with a military background would vote for you?  Following that train of thought, how many of us benefit from one of the largest peacetime (sorry, I mean “war on terror”) military deployments in history — should we also question re-electing the commander in-chief?  In this case, the Law of Unintended Consequences meets the Law of Diminishing Returns.  What am I missing here?  What am I not telling the reader?  I am not my father so why is there not a viable third candidate for me to elect?

Ahh…the balance of power.  ‘Tis a game that entertains, n’est pas?  Sarkozy and Berlusconi quickly become footnotes in history.  Merkel, like Kohl, is not far behind.  Anyone remember Mikhail Gorbachev or Deng Xiaoping?  Did Greece used to be a country?

It will be no different on the Moon or Mars.  More pioneers, more forgotten history as we scramble to feed, clothe and shelter ourselves from the elements while armchair bystanders question our motives and protest our version of progress that clashes with theirs.

Remember the Golden Rule: S/he with the most power protecting a stash of gold makes the rules.

Life on the USS Casa Grande, continued

The following pages were clipped together in a file folder alongside other wartime material inside my grandfather’s sea chest/foot locker.

NOTE: The cultural references and social mores of the time (1944) are not politically correct today.

New university study

According to the University for the Study of University Studies**, a compilation of studies on the investigation into the root causes of paedophilia has demonstrated that there is an indirect correlation between those who believe in and practice polygamy* and those who practice paedophilia.

When reached for comment, the academician in charge, who requested anonymity after receiving threats from people around the world who actively practice polygamy, said, “We can either legitimise and institutionalise polygamy, giving full rights and recognition to those who wish to mate with young women as soon as they reach puberty, or we can continue to find adults confessing they were abused as children by closet polygamists.  Either way, it appears to be not so much an individual mental problem, but a natural progression of a species that has refined social interaction into what cultural anthropologists currently call civilisation.”

To validate the study, the academician recommended hypnotising those accused of paedophilia, such as the Penn State assistant football coach, Jerry Sandusky, as well as those who assist in covering up paedophilia activities, such as Catholic priests and others up the Vatican’s chain of command, to reach their subconscious thoughts and see if they secretly believe in polygamy.

The release of this study has sent shockwaves throughout the community of “true believers” of the Mormon faith as well as orthodox Muslims.  Producers for the TV shows, “The Bachelor,” “The Bachelorette,” and “The Jerry Springer Show,” were not surprised.

Salman Rushdie refused to respond to requests for information regarding a book he is reported to have penned about this very subject years ago but never published.

*Note: there is a small, but not insignificant number of those who believe in and practice polyandry.  The same comments about polygamy above also apply to polyandry, according to footnotes in the university study.

**Due to a concern for their safety, the administration, faculty and staff of the online university that produced this study have also asked for their names and the name of the university to be withheld from this news article, pending approval of their acceptance into the Federal Witness Protection Program.

Domesticated Animals

What is one gallon (3.75 litres) of water worth to you?

In many parts of the world, a toilet is composed of a seat, a bowl full of water and a reservoir of water.

While your derriere warms the seat, you eliminate waste products (e.g., urine, feces) into the bowl and then use a levered mechanism to flush out the bowl, replacing its contents with the water in the reservoir.

A simple procedure.

Some of us are trained to drain the bowl after every use.

Some of us are trained to conserve water and drain the bowl after more than one use.

Some of us have no idea how to use the toilet, growing up with other means of eliminating waste — a hole in the floor, a hole in the ground (over which a wooden hut is built and then called an outhouse), writing your name in the snow, doing your business on the grass and covering with leaves, etc.

I grew up with unisex toilets in the home and gender-based toilets (bathrooms or water closets) in public buildings.

I don’t know how the people who avail themselves of the facilities designated for women in public places use the toilets.

In the unisex toilet at home, our parents taught my sister and me to flush after every use.

In the men’s room in public places, I have observed over the years a variety of behaviours, from clean, flushed toilets to bowls overflowing with waste and toilet paper.  [We have a toilet in the men’s room called the urinal but that one is eliminated from this discussion to focus on the more universal product for receiving our waste.]

When water is scarce, a gallon of chlorinated/fluoridated water mixed with waste products is as precious as some metals.

In that situation, what is proper is not prudent.

However, where water is abundant and treated water is inexpensive, let’s be courteous to those who’ll use the toilet after us and flush our waste away.

Surely, we’re educated and domesticated enough to handle that simple a task, eh?

There are plenty of other public places of your life to demonstrate your barbarian behaviour to better advantage.

Deep Secrets of the Subterranean Basement

In my parents’ house is a partially-completed basement, one section meant to be a couple of bedrooms turned into a big storage area many moons ago.

This morning, my mother calmly asked me to look at the heat pump system air filters to see if they needed changing.  The one in the upstairs area was caked with dust, not changed in months.

A quick trip to Walmart later, I changed the upstairs filter. Lo and behold! we have cool air circulating throughout the upper floor of the house.

Meanwhile, in the darkest reaches of the basement is an air intake vent hidden behind piles of stuff from my old bedroom, long since converted into Dad’s office upstairs.

Mom pointed into the middle of the spider webs and said, “Son, can you reach in there and see if the air filter needs to be changed?”

My life for a clean air filter?  Mom, is that all I’m worth to you?!

As I bargained with the hungry arachnids for a few seconds to disturb their threadbare threads, I nearly stepped on a box covered with contact paper from the mid 1970s.

Could it be the lost artifacts, the treasure of my forgotten youth?

THE BOX OF COMIC BOOKS I THOUGHT MY PARENTS HAD TOSSED OR MARKED DOWN IN A GARAGE SALE?????

Yes!!!!

Ahh…I myself had bought this box of illustrated tales, both comical and horrible, at a garage sale for the terribly high price of $2 or $3 decades ago.

My parents scoffed at paying such a fortune for mere paper covered with colourful drawings and stories of questionable morals.

Yet, I persisted and they caved in.

Here, for your viewing pleasure, is the second cover of one of the many dozens, including Beetle Bailey:

Meanwhile, a spider bite is itching…what evil lurks in the damaged hearts of regenerating men!

Living memories

While cleaning out my father’s closet — clawing through his hidden stash of Viagra, box of .22 long rifle bullets of mine from my Boy Scout days, stack of Playboys, old Avon cologne bottles, ziplock baggie of .38 hollow tip bullets, Optimist Club pins, German spy camera, fedora hats from the 1930s/1940s, ties, and other stuff I’ll catalog one day — I found the following:

Picture and role of one of my mother’s early classrooms

Fez for Jericho Temple, as well as this book:

When I get my camera out, I’ll share pictures of an album my father had hidden at the top of the closet, right next to his Viagra stash: The Battle of Sex by Redd Foxx and Hattie Noel.  Partial scan below:

 

Leaning against the cushion of pain

Should the interiour of spaceships invoke aesthetic design criteria or functional?

Yesterday, I wanted to take my wife to a nice, quiet, flat lawn to sit and watch a fireworks show to honour the anniversary of the traditional start of the United States of America.

How many of us have sat in meditative silence in “Rocket Park,” a display of rockets, missiles and other gear located in the back lot of the US Space & Rocket Museum in Huntsville, Alabama?

Why not, I thought, grab a couple of cheap lawn chairs, a good book to read and some cash, buy food and drink from street venders and wait for the sizzle-n-boom of pyrotechnic fantasies light up the sky while surrounded by aerodynamic monuments to science?

Me, my wife, and a few hundred people, it turned out.

Rocking to the music of the AMC band (courtesy of the U.S. Army Materiel Command).

I made it about halfway through Craig Ferguson’s “American On Purpose” when threatening thunderstorms dampened the mood (and the book), pushing us indoors until minutes before the Main Event.

All of us have our stories to tell, don’t we?

Earlier in the day, we’d shopped at the Unclaimed Baggage Center, where I dared myself to get back into reading books again, picking up copies of “You Laugh, I’ll Drive” by Jenny Herrick, “Everything Bad Is Good For You” by Steven Johnson, and “A Short History Of Progress” by Ronald Wright.

So, I started my foray back into the writing styles of ghostwriters by reading Jenny’s autobiography and ended with Craig’s.  But, strangely enough, not Jenny Craig’s.  Hmm…

We can weld and program computing devices that explore the outer reaches of the solar system, can’t we?

We can enjoy the explosive nature of gunpowder without anyone getting hurt.

Is there anything we can’t do?

Yesterday, I was sad, the first 4th of July without my father and my mother in-law.

But it’s who/what I have and what I can do that matter most.

Like having chronic back pain for so long you’re consciously unaware of the fact you lean against the pain for support.

 

How many Finns have finished fins päädyssä “le fin”?

While I wait for an inspiration to hit me or simply rub up against me and go, “Me now!,” I wait.

I wait for a style, a period, an influence, to work its magic upon my video clips of a trip to Alaska.

I have given up wanting a lead candidate to get my vote, now that the two leading candidates for U.S. President have declared themselves alike and equally adept at being either a wolf in sheep’s clothing or a sheep in wolf’s clothing as the situation requires.

C’est la vie.

I had given up reading books when my mother in-law got real sick and died.  I resigned myself to not reading a book again after my father got real sick and died.

The complexities that I wished to weave in brainwave pattern matching/synching/syncopating have dissipated.

My vocabulary shrinking.

My wry, sarcastic sense of humour intact, mild but biting.

My automatically-correcting grammatical radar falling into disuse.

‘Tis me, here, though, isn’t it?

Not another.

Time…time, time, time…time to consider new possibilities.

My country is no longer my own — it belongs and has always belonged to the wealthy alpha leaders.

My sights are set farther, out there in space and time.

I want to go further.

See a furrier.

Tell PETA, “Look, I slowly squeezed the main artery to the brain so that the animal went to sleep and died before I skinned it for my wife’s warm coat to wear to the opera, a more humane death than being eaten alive in the wild, or hearing your ranting chants.”

Look through my “complete” collections of National Geographic, MAD magazine, the New Yorker and other desk reference volumes.

Read my father’s copy of Pyle’s “THIS IS YOUR WAR.”

Stop thinking while this moment of memories with my father rushes through my endocrine system.

Stop feeling this pain.

Stop wanting to lash out and attack others for their successes, knowing death gets us all, no matter how far or short we got relative to fellow members of our species, dead or alive.

Your struggles and successes are not mine.

I slow down, soaking in the mixed emotions, the son standing here in place of his father, regardless of historical significance one may have or may not have had more than the other.

I cannot eat memories but they can eat me.

I can rewrite memories but not the events on which they are based.

The molecules, atoms and subatomic particles have moved on.

Why can’t I?

The animated graphic novel will have to wait.

So, too, the Alaskan travelogues, new and old.

I have only myself at the centre of this known universe in this current version of a dream/illusion/fantasy I try to get you to align with, just like everybody else.

How can I be different from and yet the same as you?

I wait for an inspiration.

Earth spins on its axis.

Our solar system spins around the centre of the Milky Way galaxy.

Toward or away from what are we expanding?

When time is meaningless, what are dreams about a future on another world?

I can crush the crystal ball with one hand, the shards opening fissures, wounds, tears in the fabric of spacetime.

We all know we have to eat.  Most of us reproduce.

The moments we spend in-between, here, there, any/every where, what are they?

…so this is what it’s like to float in weightlessness…how long can I stay here?…do I have to leave?…there is no waiting when there is neither time nor space that waits for the me that is not-me which does not exist…

German private industry vs. American military industry transportation choices

The beauty of a brain in retirement is letting one’s thoughts wander.

For instance, as I was driving back and forth from unrestricted territory down a long road into a restricted American military base, I looked around me.

I remembered when I used to commute via airplane and taxi from the U.S. to Germany on business.

In Germany, I noticed that some companies, such as Fujitsu-Siemens in Augsburg, offered large covered parking areas nearest buildings for people who commuted by bicycle or motorbike.

Here in the U.S., at the local military base called Redstone Arsenal, those who carpool (more than one person per vehicle) are allotted spots to park nearest one of the buildings but motorbikes were allotted uncovered spots in the middle of the carpark.

Which got me thinking…

When are we going to design our infrastructures to optimise the mix of devices we use in our transportation systems?

In other words, if we make token efforts to promote efficient means of transportation, then people will continue to pay for the convenience of inefficient methods.

Only when we make it difficult and/or inconvenient to use relatively expensive transportation vehicles (cars/trucks/SUVs) will we change our habits.

For instance, what if people had to use mass transit to get onto a U.S. military base, with tiny carparks and large bicycle/motorbike storage facilities located at mass transit pickup points throughout walk/bike-friendly [sub/ex]urban neighbourhoods?

Would we encourage people to walk or bike to work rather than the majority piling into their one-person occupied metal-and-plastic contraptions lined up one-after-another in traffic jams morning, noon and night to get on the base?

Would we worry less about the dangers of large carparks full of uninspected vehicles on military bases?

Would we find better ways to spend our time than wait on crowded roads for our turn to drive through traffic-light controlled intersections?

Would we have more time to spend with family before and after our workdays are done?

Makes an argument like the one cited here at wired.com moot, doesn’t it, when you eliminate the need for the motorised/EV transportation devices altogether?