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.

Embossed business cards for the bossy busy cardshark

Once again, a scientific study released earlier this week proved that scientists’ demand for highly-precise and extremely-accurate scientific instruments to study climate change requires the very sophisticated ecosystem that creates global warming, glacier melting, coastal flooding and other disasters that the scientists are warning us against creating with our sophisticated ecosystem.

Reinforces the theory that the observers and the observation equipment directly influence the outcome of the “pure” experiment.

Is it better to have an ecosystem declining into ignorance to save us from ourselves?

The Law of Unintended Consequences outlives Cole’s Law (sliced cabbage and vinegar) to compete against Murphy’s Law.

There can be only one true law to rule us all, better known as the Law of the Kitchen Sink: it takes just a single hair to clog the drain and flood your home.

If the universe revolved around me, I’d…

This day — the time between major sleep periods — belongs to me.

You work for me, you play because I allow you to play, you sleep because you need to revive yourself mentally and you eat because I want foodgrowers to stay in business.

I do not feel angry yet I want to play with a solar flare powerful enough to disrupt our electronic communications systems which will test the capabilities of a larger network under construction in front of you invisibly.

This is my new nonsense story.

In this story, road reflectors/markers serve multiple purposes, including speed sensor, licence tag photo record maker, road spike/barrier trigger, autonomous vehicle lane control, EV battery recharger and uses yet to be revealed as the nonsense grows.

In this story, a third candidate for U.S. President will win the 2012 election, declare a dictatorship for the temporary time period needed to tear apart the cozy system in place rearranging the three branches of government — military, industrial, pharmaceutical — in order to build a more perfect union of global proportions.

In this story, the solar system headquarters will move from Earth to the Moon and eventually to Mars, to place a long distance between the leaders, their courtiers and the barbarians attempting an attack on spaceship launch sites in the middle of old sacred headquarters sites.

In this story, weather patterns are controlled by satellite, moving rain systems as needed to prevent drought.

In this story, global warming is still debated ad nauseum while people climb into taller and taller skyscrapers, requiring more efficient horizontal farming methods to support accelerating vertical cities until urban dwellers are forced to grow some of their own food within their living/working spaces.

In this story, algae and bacteria are farmed in converted fish tanks and furniture.

In this story, our species is modified to thrive on nontraditional food (fast food restaurant menus just a small step in the process), the next big step in major migration off our home planet.

In this story, a hot Earth and loss of habitat is training for our species and our symbiotic species to populate the Moon and Mars.

In this story, millions of people will still feel a connection to the “natural” ecosystems of Earth, wanting to stay; however, billions will have acclimated to a lifestyle not tied to seasonal weather patterns and will be ready to live in permanent offworld colonies with “artificial” ecosystems, competing aggressively for limited flights.

In this story, terraforming will fade as a nostalgic fad for recreating Earthlike conditions where one can still see wildlife roaming free/ly; 4D holidays will replace the need to “get away from it all.”

In this story, our universe is already a 4D holiday.

In this story, you think you know what’s going on but you don’t; in a parallel subplot of the story, you think you don’t know what’s going but you do; in a perpendicular subplot, you meet the selves that you present to everyone else, forgetting who you thought you were, replaced solely by your behaviour as a set of states of energy perpetuating and reproducing themselves as long as possible.

In this story, the solar system declares itself a conscious entity separate from its parts (us), showing its parts their precise function.

In this story, the galaxy is not yet ready to reveal itself as just another miniscule part of the universe, waiting to place our solar system and its parts in clear perspective as to level of importance.

But every story has a beginning, every god humorous as well as horribly humongous, giving mere mortals a sense of hope, no matter how futile, in front of a smug omnipresence wanting some fun with its playthings.

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.

Five Minutes Until Closing Time

The situation is this: what do you want after the crisis in Syria is less violent in chaotic parts of that geopolitical zone?  How do you want the people suffering the worst economic conditions in the Eurozone to react?  If you don’t have to pay your medical bills, who’s going to determine if you got your money’s worth?

Tuned in to Pandora radio, picked the Soundgarden station and an advert for “Meet Singles in Your Area” popped up.  Switched to the Claire Lynch station and an advert for “Viagra” popped up.  Stayed up when Alison Kraus started playing.  Very punny.

Anyway, so we’ve got supply lines to regional energy sources which we want to stay open.

We’ve got people in the Middle East who claim that civilisation originated there.

We have people in China trying to prove the same thing.

Thing is, does it matter?

What is civilisation?  Violent suppression?  Censorship?  Surveillance?

And that’s just in the UK.

When is a revolution acceptable?

Who gets to choose when to participate in an uprising?

Is every wealthy person an “alpha?”

Is every person in a position of authority — in charge of military forces, that is — an “alpha” or a “beta?”

[Cue references to “Brave New World”]

What does it mean to be an American or a world citizen?

Can you claim membership in both groups?

I’m blending in with my surroundings, the chameleon nearly invisible, a reflection of the intersecting waves of social [in]justice, letting words, images, labels and such flow through and around me.

Some call it happiness.

I call it being me/not-me.

On Canada Day, I consider a visit to the country via Alaska, wondering if I should move to the land of depleting boreal forests, oil shale field fracking and old gold rushes.

I trust our species to use as much fossil fuel as is in-the-slightest-bit feasible to extract because alternative energy sources are expensive in comparison to…well, pick your chart, select your argument and present to a skeptical public the why’s and wherefore’s of the social/economic/ecological cost of running a modern-day civilisation.

Meanwhile, I’m slapping some money down on a trip to the land of Molson, moose and moist towelettes.

Trekking over tourist traps and snow country.

Working my network of associates and colleagues.

Wondering if monsters sleep under rusted truck cabs in desert conditions near tundras.

Or was that a deserted Tundra truck under seeping monster cabs in rusty conditions?

Maybe ol’ Dusty Rhodes’ll be singing a sad song on the way to the next WWE Hall of Fame induction.

Time for another hand-drawn animated satirical cartoon disguised as what?  The last time, a horror novel.  The next time…?

Stay tuned!

Alone on this lonesome highway, the Wandering Wonderer meditates on the universe that revolves around him solely for his lifetime entertainment, the illusions enjoyable, if tragic or funny in forgotten moments of timeless navelgazing.

This is my dream, my illusion — getting our states of energy, our living, breath bodies in one form or another, out into the solar system, not just our electronic, robotic companions escaping the heliosphere — carrying on the work of our species for millennia, using stories, humour and Earth’s resources to make my [adopted] dream a reality worth living for.

Everything else is just a game in your dreams and illusions.  I’ll play your games sometimes but I promise I soon get bored.  If the alphas and betas want to fight each other to the death, go for it — don’t let me stop your madness, battling over the same ground your ancestors wasted their time killing each other to claim again for the very first time.  If those kinds of games of yours are all there is to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, then end mine here.

No?  I’m still alive?  Good!  Time to explore new fields where resources and repurposed technology may make my dream come true…

A World of Ideas, or an Idea of Worlds?

How much of what goes on in our species is necessary for you/me/us to go on?

How much more austerity is necessary for a place like Greece to endure in order to inspire real innovation for change?

Simply pouring government funds, part of which is covered in taxes, does not make those holding the vessel which collects the funds (users of the money) more efficient and thus profitable.

Terms like bonds, taxes, government treasury bills and loans float through the airwaves constantly.

And then a spacecraft, nicknamed Dragon (with many a symbolic meaning there), is grappled and floats in unison with the ISS.

Racecar mechanics race against time to prepare for the big race.

Race itself is a a term with many a symbolic meaning.

But these are words in one language.

We see terms, symbols, memes, languages, and other sets of states of energy as we see fit.

We may have a fit in the process.

The storyline of the Committee picks back up again.

We are 8.5 strong, adding PegLegs to the mix.  The 0.5 has grown into the 0.65, becoming more adultlike and responsible every day — when it reaches 1.0, we remove a member from the Committee.

Attrition may place its part ahead of time.

What’s next on the Committee’s agenda?

A balancing act, of course.

Expanding our knowledge and experience in the known universe, as usual.

Always weighed against personal loss.

Celebrating the simplest of events, like digging up an old boxwood bush with a shovel and cutter mattock.

Or welcoming the 1000th guest onboard a space hotel.

Today, we finished plans for the cruise ship that travels from Earth to the Moon and back again regularly.

Frequent launches from our planet to the cruise ship allows guests to spend time in space, with many dropping to the Moon for extended holidays and business trips.

Sure, a few find the travel inconvenient, wasting valuable time commuting between laboratories where robotic surrogates cannot complete assignments in ways that our species can.

We have not totally given over our toughest jobs to robots.

Robots have not totally resigned themselves to being outside the realm of our species’ capabilities.

Long ago, we crossed the threshold where the difference between cybernetic humans and robots with human body parts is indistinguishable.

Still, there are areas of the human brain that have not been fully duplicated.

We no longer call the synergy of these areas intuition.

Instead, we focus on the data complexity and efficiency of neuron transmission and information storage within a single brain, as well as the meme set carrying capacity of [sub]cultures.

A brain does not operate in a vacuum.

But students at age three already know this.

Why am I repeating myself, then?

Good question.

I chose not to enhance my central nervous system.

I am an old man, willing to face the deterioration inherent in brain cell loss and reduced cardiovascular functionality associated with a naturally aging body.

I have never lost the thought set of self-importance.  There is not a point in my narrative, like retirement or worker status/title, that indicates a change in my usefulness.

I can manage a group of hackers, police officers, counterterrorism agents and freedom fighters within the same brain.  I can create crime and prevent crime in the same sentence.

I can promote diplomatic solutions and bomb innocent villages between heartbeats.

I can act the dove and the hawk, the liberal and the conservative, at the same time.

The role of the Reluctant Leader in this storyline demands no less.

Happiness is sitting quietly, thoughts spinning in and out of consciousness.

Happiness is giving orders at a rapid pace that is still too slow to keep up with the seven billion thought sets that make up our species.

Forgetfulness is part of the solution, not part of the problem, a key variable in the equation of life.

We remember so that we can forget.

We forget so that we can remember.

We create wars in order to create warriors who become heroes who create peace which fosters a need to create wars again.

Have you wondered why someone could make a profit off the taxes you have to pay your government?

Shouldn’t the profit be used to refund your taxes, not create new taxes to be paid on profit earned or siphon taxes out of your local economy?

Austerity is just a word.

Just like poverty or prosperity.

Or planetary settlements.

Ideas.  Visions.

Were Spanish missions in California a mission from God?

What’s missing in that sentence?

Have geeks already inherited the earth?

Do proofreaders with pens scratch out a living?

Who is responsible to give you a job?

What is a job?

What is a living?

If the efficiencies of modern society eliminate the need for many of the seven billion of us, what do we do in the meantime?

Are we means-tested in realtime?  How do we create the sense of wellbeing — usefulness — when contract work and part-time jobs are the norm for the majority?

How many of us can handle the day-to-day competitiveness of us not only against each other, but also against the excess capacity of just-in-time automated manufacturing?  Or hoarded profit holdings?

Can you compete against the noise of everyday life, wanting just to be able to hear yourself, let alone find something to eat, clothes to wear and a place of your own to lay down your head and sleep?

If you had ten children, would you constantly ask, “If I only had food for two of my kids to survive, which ones would it be?”  Would you love the other eight any more or less?

What about two or three billion out of nine billion?

Once Upon a Time in a Warehouse…

Ever watched a fire scatter homeless people?

Are there days of the week that homeless people make more money telling their stories and asking people to help them out?

What about the 24-hour period that some call Sunday?

The dilemma of managing a storyline 1000 years into your future is remembering the ambiance, the daily tricks of the trade, the parts of your society not bothered with car bombs, assassinations, sky drone monitoring or global warming.

Your planet seems so small in retrospect.

However, telling you about interplanetary transportation issues or galactic survey crews is like telling the founders of Angkor Wat about the printing press or steam-powered locomotives — you’d understand the concept of progress but not necessarily the technological details.

So it is with a random warehouse fire like this:

Typically, you’d get reports that galactic travel machines were burned to hide the evidence of a time twist, or that mobsters were settling a old score.

No doubt, you’ll hear that homeless military veterans were lighting up a big handrolled tobacco cigar and set trash on fire by accident.

Eyewitness reports will appear that show homeless people WERE in larger numbers in the Tri-Cities on the day of the fire.

However, there’s more to the story than meets the eye.

Look carefully:

Can you tell the difference between that photo and the following two:

No?

Let’s try it again.  Look at this photo and see if you can solve the mystery:

You may have to perform an analysis of the chlorophyll concentration, as well as figure out why a mother would pull her two small children out of a safe vehicle to walk toward a raging fire.

Getting warmer?

I thought so.  In 1000 years, we’ll use the space where the warehouse burned for a massive experiment of species overpopulation in absence of balancing predators.

We’ll demonstrate that the excess capacity of enclosed environments — office space, hotel rooms, concert halls, church school rooms, restaurants and public/private classrooms — was put to use toward housing the homeless and turning them into productive members of the Earth-based space travel preparation programs.

I need all seven billion of us to accomplish upcoming goals.

Every milestone is critical and even the tiniest talent, from designing hospital gowns for the prevention of the spread of Klebsiella pneumoniae, to losing $2 Billion, to begging for money on the street, is important.

We’ll keep you posted.

Thanks to Doug/Deanna at Walmart; Donna, Martha, Ronnie, Debbie and more at MHVAMC; Cootie Brown’s; Oh Henry’s; Pal’s; Col. Hts. Pres. Ch. participants; Valero; Mapco; Demetrice at Cupboard BP; Pete at the Chophouse; Home Depot; Rogersville Produce Market; to be continued…

A Voice in Anger

Or, how the goons of Rocket City (the Huntsville Utilities tree trimming crew) ruined my wife’s day and thus mine.

It has been a long year.

First, my wife’s mother fell ill back last March/April and died in November.

Then, immediately following, my father’s health declined rapidly.

Sure, it’s the cycle of life and all that, but it’s also emotionally/physically draining.

Then, to make matters worse, a crape myrtle I have protected year after year from the butchery of power line tree trimmers was nearly slaughtered by the uncaring, untrained hands of those less-educated brutes who attacked my wife’s favourite blooming bush at the end of the driveway this morning.

From a 20-foot tall beauty to a 3-foot stump in a matter of minutes.

All while my mother, sister, niece and I fret over the care my father receives with the caring, trained hands of the medical staff at the local VA hospital.

In addition, an heirloom Rose of Sharon was damaged, along with two smaller crape myrtle bushes.

This, my friends, in the town that helped put men on the Moon!

So, let us serve as a warning to those wanting to move to Huntsville, Alabama, USA.

Yes, it is in the state where George Wallace stood on the steps of the University of Alabama, barring African-Americans from crossing the threshold of higher education.

Butchers still live in this area of the world.

They hide behind chainsaws and cherry pickers, taking out the frustrations of their home lives on the helpless hybrid plants growing beneath the hazardous, humming harbingers of electrical shocks and high monthly utility bills.

They exist to make your life miserable.

They succeeded today.

Where’s a city forester to provide an educated point of view about how to carefully trim trees and bushes for the health of citizens?

Today, I am very unhappy…modern civilisation has let me down.

But then again, based on recent reports of 8th graders, science is not their best subject, which leads directly (through misunderstanding a tree’s anatomy and human psychology) to why government tree trimmers have a lack of understanding the need to aesthetically please the people who pay their salaries.

Maybe I ought to lobby to fire a few tree trimmers or heavily reduce their income to balance the local government budget?

Or at least educate today’s kids to become better qualified tree trimmers in the future.

Even after writing this blog entry, I still don’t feel better.

There’s a stump in the yard where a majestic myrtle once stood and there’s not a single thing I do about it from here, except shoot pictures and ask questions later about Huntsville Utilities departmental budgets and personnel files (nothing like an inside job to build a paper trail and get revenge the cold, hard way — expense report abuse and timecard fraud are common offenses, for starters — local government officials failing the newspaper test right before fall elections).

We may be on the verge of populating space habitats, making a lot of us very busy, but there’s still time to play games with people’s lives who cross my path and upset my wife in the process…

Near Earth Orbit

Trying to be sarcastic about sarcoidosis or small cell cancer doesn’t go over well with family facing my father’s deteriorating health condition.

Instead, I follow the advice, relayed, of looking up terminology and longterm acute care services through popular search engine technology.

My mother’s health, viewed closely by my sister, is at stake.

Sigh…

One whole thousand years from now, the details of this day are lost to modern memory, despite mass media portrayal of ubiquitous surveillance fighting against sousveillance.

I wonder how many people are unaware of factual existence not supported by fantasies, dreams, delusions and skewed beliefs.

Can we see without labeling?

Can we live in the moment without overlaying illusions?

How do we remove the “we” to be the [super]sets of states of energy that constantly interact?

And, in so doing, how do I help [to] direct medically-trained professionals toward resolving rather than speculating about [the root cause(s) of] the set of issues dogging my father on a daily basis?

All in an effort to clear my thoughts to focus on life decades and centuries from now through data-driven projections of fluctuating trends recorded in a blog/storyline?

First Rule of STEM School: Never, ever, extract or extend the results of conjecture and/or analysis toward infinity.  Safely assume trends are at cross-purposes and will either reach equilibrium or pull one another apart.  Or both.  Or neither.  All at the same time.

The “House” Effect: Or, how the CSI effects affected aftereffects

While the Subcommittee on the Organisation of Offworld Committee-Forming Avoidance convenes its annual bimonthly meeting to finalise plans for colonisation anarchy policies and procedures, the monetary policy to end the dependence on Fiat and Dodge taxes is in its final stages of incompletion.

That’s the message I’m supposed to send today.

Sitting here in my virtual cyberself, a suit of robotic clothing that simulates my former self (the original set of states of energy long since spoiled after exceeding its expiration date), the residents of the local council estates gives me a round of applause and then a standing ovation for handing them the best performance of the “House” effect.

You know the drill, of course.

Whether one should credit the writers or acting ensemble, with special emphasis on the influence of Hugh “Huge Ego” Laurie, or thank the producers/directors, is a matter of debate long since exhausted.

A mix of dyspepsia and dystopia, cooked to a boil, cooled with a few frozen pieces of Holmesian analysis and served next to a side dish of considerably half-baked humour.  At room “temeprature.”

Garnish with kale, not iceberg lettuce, for the aftereffect is enlightening nutritious, not Titanic, in nature.  Or, at least, shocking in worst case presentational sentimental presentments.

Thanks to the behind-the-scenes folks at the PatriotStore, PatriotCafe, and construction workers wearing creatively stickered helmets at MHVAMC; Nina, Sharon and Geno; Brynn; Dr. Coffey; Danielle; Randy at German Motors; Olympus Exera equipment; evidence-based medicine; and more later…

Congrats to Chestney on the birth of her child, Shannon Elizabeth, 8 lb 7 oz, 21-in long.