Clips and Cuts: Robotic Surgeons, Inc.

The Committee of 7.5 had held off meetings for three months to avoid being seen in one place, even virtually.

Events forced them to convene ahead of schedule.

“We have a leak.”

“What?”

“Yes.  The group of volunteers we had interviewed had gathered and cross-examined one another, creating a fairly accurate picture of what we’re going to do with them.”

“No way.  We purposely included a lot of bogus questions so they couldn’t do this.”

“I think that’s the problem.  The questions were too bogus.”

“‘Too bogus?’  You mean all the inquiries about their sports interests and fashion choices?”

“No.  The ones about their computer coding skills and knowledge of mechanical design.  It looked like we hadn’t looked at their CVs, when they knew we had.”

“What does this mean?  Is the project on hold?”

“No.  But we’ll have to come clean.”

“You mean be honest?  Is that in our nature?”

“Well, it’s certainly not in our bylaws.”

After talking amongst themselves for ten excruciating minutes, I joined them via secure telecom.

“Gentlemen, ladies and child, thanks for attending this emergency meeting.”

They grunted and nodded.

“Does anyone have objections to the candidates?  I still haven’t gotten yeas from all of you.”

Silence.

“Okay, what’s the problem?”

“Don’t you know?  The candidates have figured out our real agenda!”

I looked at the electronic images displayed on the simulated computer screens in my ‘mind’s eye.’  The Committee members were visibly excited.

“But you assume you know what the agenda is, don’t you?”

They smiled in unison.

“That’s right.  I am keeping you in the dark and I have asked to be kept in the dark so that the ISSA Net can accomplish the true purpose for this mission.”

How easily we forget that we’re never fully in control of our plans no matter how much we micromanage the minutia.

“So, what do they think?”

“They think we’re establishing a forward military base to thwart the advances of an unseen enemy they are sure we know about but aren’t telling them.”

“Very good.  And they have no idea that we’re going to ask them to give up their reproductive organs to prevent accidental additions to the first wave of builders, settlers and explorers?”

Silence, the absolute sign of agreement in our group meetings.

“Excellent.  Then move on to step two.  Let’s transfer the candidates to the training facilities as soon as possible.  Remember, we want them in place on Mars before the next 13,627 days have elapsed.  Triangulating a giant antenna between Earth, Moon and Mars is tricky business, as you well know.  Don’t forget what happened when the last alignment occurred thousands of years ago!”

Blank stares answered back, just as we had rehearsed, knowing we were being watched, throwing false comments into our meetings to give any persons who consider us their enemy a whole set of paranoid delusions to feed upon and leave us alone while they pondered infinite possibilities about planetary alignments and imaginary galactic foes.

“Dismissed!”

What if…

What if a group of armed citizens set up a protective unit around James Yeager, the protective unit gets its own concentric circular layer of protection, etc., until every armed citizen was backed and protected by every other armed citizen?

Our subsubsubsubbasement supercomputer is having a lot of fun plotting out futures with this scenario in mind.

What if a security company, in order to promote its protective services, offered protection for James Yeager and his arsenal?

What about all the trained mercenaries who have nothing better to do with their time than go to shooting ranges and gun shows?

Would they be willing to take a stand in the name of James Yeager?

Where will the line in the sand be drawn?

What was that old colonial American revolutionary saying about standing together or falling one by one?

Where’s a good buffoonish plot ploy like Janet Reno at a time like this?

What have the enclaves like the Montana Freemen learned in protecting themselves for the last couple of decades?

Who will be the next David Koresh and his Waco followers dying at the hands of an overzealous government?

Vaccinated for diplomatic immunity

SO, here’s the story so far…

The Urbanki Bureaucracy, fearing its populace, has fallen right into the hands of the Ruralites’ plan to demonstrate they’re being oppressed by “The Man.”

How?!, you might ask.

Let us look at the recent facts in the storyline and tell you what could happen next.

First, paranoid suspicion of an indefinable entity such as a large bureaucracy is, like fear of the dark, a natural reaction by many.

The imagined hierarchy of bosses in a large corporation.

The terrible police and paramilitary troops that patrol your province, their faces hidden behind uniforms and equipment.

The social hierarchy and anarchy of insects that swarm in dark spaces underneath your domicile.

These fears are as inbred in us as any tribe isolated in the densest forest.

Where there is fear, there is also the chance for escape.

Let us take two data points from the same source, for an example.

Look at this guy, James Yeager, who exercised his free right to express himself but, the local state bureaucracy, so full of itself and fearful of its people all coming to the same conclusion, decides to take away the guy’s gun ownership permit.

Well, a funny thing happened on the way to the forum comments afterward.

James has many options.

First of all, the ACLU can step in to defend James’ rights.

Second, James can accept an offer from the “country” of NSK for immediate citizenship and a diplomatic position in its tiny bureaucracy, which leads to James having diplomatic immunity for ownership of his arsenal.

James might have to give up his U.S. citizenship and move his property into an estate or trust but…

Guess what!

As a martyred exile in his former country, James becomes a beacon of escape for his other oppressed patriots.

As more and more patriotic exiles join NSK for the sake of protecting themselves against the entrenched tyranny of bloated, overtaxing and indefinable bureaucracies, the NSK will be the first nongeographical country to declare war on a geographical country, opening up the door for the Inner Solar System Alliance to publicly announce its existence in order to declare all nonEarth territory offlimits to claims of ownership or protection by Earth-based bureaucracies, to prevent further land-based wars.

Wars based purely on ideology will continue unabated.

Meanwhile, a secret executive committee commissioned for consideration of calamities to cause after the next Urbanski Bureaucracy inauguration has released a preliminary agenda that shocked the pundits who were allowed to briefly glance at the agenda written in 2-point font.

From what they saw but cannot officially talk about, the Bureaucracy plans to incite the anger of the populace more and more and then, at the right moment, divert attention from itself by saying the primary goal of its first administrative term of office was to flush the LGBT and illegal immigrant community out into the open so that angry, armed citizens could easily identify these communities as causes for whatever problems the citizens believe are inflicted on them by the Bureaucracy.  The Bureaucracy will imply but not state that no harm will come to armed citizens if they take the law into their own hands for a brief time to eliminate the “cause of their problems” as long as it’s not directed directly at the Bureaucracy.

The Bureaucracy did not detail whether NSK citizens were included in the announcement.

One of the signals they will send to signify this brief window of opportunity will appear in the classified section of one of the few profitable newspapers still being printed in the U.S.:

“In The Loop” + “Salt” = “Falling Down”

Bunka, not bunko or bunco

Thanks to my sister, I now know the embroidery style that her mother in-law uses to create fascinating works of art:

BunkaCraft

I think the kits that her mother in-law used were called Matsuhato.

Which leads to the next thought.

In times past, battles were remembered by bards with ballads and seamstresses who sewed elaborate tapestries.

In the battles to come, let us remember our fallen warriors — whether under cyber attack or defending our physical freedoms — using Bunka or whatever means our warriors’ family, friends and supporters may have at hand.

Who amongst you will create the kits that will feature the flaming fields of war?

Who will sew the tartans to drape over the weapons newly-forged in Ruralite furnaces?

Who will create the sinewed covers for the field drums, whether made with animal skin or simulated on tablet PC screens?

My friends, it is too late for the war of words.

The battle cry has echoed in the hills and valleys, shook the shaky foundations of the once hallowed halls in Urbanski territory.

The trumpets of Jericho wait no longer!

TO ACTION!!!

Milking a book dry

And now, the rest of the story you’ve been waiting for…

“Gentlemen,” said General Eisehower to a roomful of reporters during World War II, “I know you’ve all been guessing where we’re going to attack next.  Well, I’m going to let you in on the secret.  Our next operation will be Italy, early in July.  General Patton will attack the southern beaches, General Montgomery the eastern.”

“General,” said one newsman, as the reporters gasped at the revelation, “if one of us leaked that plan, couldn’t it be disastrous?”

Ike nodded.  “The slightest hint in your stories will tip it off to German intelligence,” he said.  “But I’m not going to censor you fellows.  I’m just leaving it up to each man’s sense of responsibility.”

“Wow,” exclaimed one reporter, “what a dirty trick!”

But not a word of the operation leaked out.

— see previous blog entries for attribution, or not; from Battlefield President: Dwight D. Eisenhower (New York, 1967), page 11.

One-Way Ticket to Paradise

As the countdown winds down — only 13630 days, according to the main schedule — we look at one of the interim milestones as well as some of the news items that indicate our species’ desire to divert our attention from diverting our attention from reaching our goals.

  1. First, there is the Mars One mission that wants humans willing to take a one-way trip to Mars, becoming the first to travel to, live and die on a nonEarth celestial body.
  2. Next, there are the theories that lay out theories about theories why we would want to premeditate murder — of course, the real purpose of every conspiracy theorist is to protect free speech, regardless of the theory and the headlines it does or doesn’t generate.
  3. For every conspiracy theory about the government censoring the news, there are verified stories in which mass media mavens actually kept quiet at the government’s behest.  Numerous times during WWII, the U.S. government asked newspaper reporters and publishers to hold off reporting a battle or an invasion and they did.  In other countries, the government simply took the great honour of culling and killing the reporters and their publishers ahead of time because the government never trusted them to begin with.

= = = = =

Like other Presidents who exerted forceful leadership at critical junctures in American history, [Franklin D.] Roosevelt was the recipient of both passionate adoration and blind hatred.

Roosevelt jokes — and jokes about his wife, Eleanor, who was always on the go — abounded.

Some of them Roosevelt enjoyed; others he regarded as beneath contempt.

His favorite cartoon showed a little girl running to tell her mother standing in front of a fashionable home: “Look, mama, Wilfred wrote a bad word!”  The word on the sidewalk was “Roosevelt.”

And his favorite story was about the commuter from Westchester County, a Republican stronghold, who always walked into his train station, handed the newspaper boy a quarter, picked up the New York Herald Tribune, and then handed it back as he rushed out to catch his train.

Finally the newsboy, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, asked his customer why he only glanced at the front page.

“I’m interested in the obituary notices,” the man told him.

“But they’re way over on page twenty-four, and you never look at them,” said the boy.

“Boy,” said the man,” the son of a bitch I’m interested in will be on page one!”

In that vein…

At a Cabinet meeting one day Roosevelt gleefully told the story about an American marine who, ordered home from Guadalcanal, was disconsolate because he hadn’t killed even one of the enemy.

He stated his case to his superior officer, who said: “Go up on that hill over that and shout: ‘To hell with Emperor Hirohito!’ That will bring the Japs out of hiding.”

The marine did as he was ordered.

Immediately a Japanese soldier came out of the jungle, shouting, “To hell with Roosevelt!”

“And of course,” said the marine, “I could not kill a Republican.”

— more stories collected in Presidential Anecdotes by Paul F. Boller, Jr. (Kingsport, TN, 1981)

What is a human and when do you stop being one?

Therefore, by conclusion, violence is positively good for us!

BONUS: Dead trees aren’t going away any time soon.

People want action…in their favour, mostly…

A good storyteller gives readers what they want, but not always in the order they expect.

For instance, I walked up to the microwave oven just now and saw a little credit-card sized pocketable inspirational note that has sat there for I don’t know how long and I never really paid much attention to it until today.

What did it say?  Basically, this:

Jeremiah 29:11-13 [New International Version (NIV)]

11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

My wife and I don’t keep a household where Bible verses are stamped onto various forms and shapes, hung on the walls, in hallways and nailed onto doors.

However, we have received a few and given/regifted a few as presents to friends and family through the years.

I am one of those people who don’t read the Bible every minute of the day but I do have access to electronic copies, physical books and enough tomes like “Social Aspects of Early Christianity” to keep me as occupied on the subject of religious writing as I desire.

We even have a copy or two of church hymnals containing the song, “Onward, Christian Soldiers.”

In this parallel storyline, I contemplate two storylines, one in which our species goes to war with itself on a massive scale, using weapons that have never seen battle, millions wiped out in wave after wave of clashes, turning peaceful boroughs all over the planet into scarred battlefields, no place safe; the second in which we continue the merging of multiple subcultures, every situation a win-win one, where we as a species, though in constant disagreement about the details, work out the general outline for thousands of years of thriving, prospering, voluntarily sharing our wealth with each other, reaching out beyond the solar system as our technology progresses sufficiently for low-risk exploration of the cosmos.

Always, always, always, taking into account the benefits and positive contributions of every language, every person, every subculture, no matter what is going on, good or bad, in global socioeconomic headlines.

I am tired of monitoring drug wars, billionaire backyard brawls and political detente for profittaking’s sake.

I am a man in the latter decades of his life who wants to see us, as a species, specific subculture(s) less important, establishing colonies of living beings on nonEarth celestial bodies.

If I end up in one of those colonies, I would feel most comfortable with aspects of my subcultural upbringing brought along.

If someone else ends up in one of the colonies instead of me, I know that person would feel most comfortable with aspects of familiar subcultural upbringing(s) brought along, too.

No matter where the colonies are built and who occupies them, it’s a success for our species and for Earth, especially for those subcultures that look past petty quarrels and set their sights far into the future.

Thirteen point six three five 1,000-day increments to go until we complete one of the major steps.

Accentuate the Positive!