13,755 Days to Go

In the warm evenings of the year, I sleep on a sofa in the sunroom, often woken up by my wife on her way to work.

This morning, after my wife left, I heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet and opened my eyes to see a squirrel licking up the dew on top of one of the skylights.

On the driveway yesterday, a line of ants moved back and forth from one location to another, unencumbered by hungry predators, the ants walking around dry leaves and hickory nuts that fall from trees in this miniseason of early autumn.

The sounds of residential construction hit my ears — hammering, sawing, splintering wood — and I wonder about not just the waste and fraud in the medical business but the waste and redundancy in construction.

As long as it’s cheaper to dump leftover construction material in landfills, we have no incentives to drive innovation in construction methods unless there’s also a profit motive.

How can we increase the profit motive without imposing fees or adding regulatory disincentives?

For instance, what happens to old material — shingles, tiles, sheet metal, nails, underlayment — after a house is reroofed?

Where are the innovators in the reuse/recycle field?

We can easily see the potential energy of water behind a dam but we can’t see the potential energy of material in a house before remodeling?

I look through the lens of my eyes and all I see are sets of states of energy devoid of anthropomorphic qualifications.

What if we all saw life that way, how some states of energy bond more readily than others, rather than superficial qualities that are in meme states only?

Outside the window, the redbud leaf that is full of holes and starting to yellow has a sense of beauty about it but beauty is truly only in the eyes of the beholder.  The holes chewed in the leaf indicate a set of states of energy found the leaf material useful for strengthening its bonds, not for any sense of beauty I may assign either one.

Let us not confuse our brain’s excess capacity for making sense of the world around us for more than what it always is — adapting to our environment to improve our chances to reproduce our sets of states of energy.

Some useful websites for today:

Fifty years until the next generation of real innovation?

I’m floating in a thought set of two Thai teas right now so my ability to pull memories out of the nether reaches of the brain is muddled.

What is the difference between idol worshipers and the idolised?

What makes groups of people find true innovation?

Imagine the following conversation…

= = = = =

Today, we have brought together some of the brilliant geniuses of the past (as opposed to the non-brilliant ones, that is) — Tesla, Eastman, Marconi, Edison, Nakamatsu, Einstein, Khayyám, Curie — in order to find out their thoughts about today’s revolution in technology.

Moderator: “Gentlemen and lady, welcome.”

All: “Thank you.”

Moderator: “During this time of year, technology vendors tell us about their latest offerings in the open market.  We’d like your opinions about their engineering achievements.”

Curie: “I am a scientist, not an engineer.”

Einstein: “Me, too.”

Moderator: “No problem.  We only want your opinion about the practical applications of research you performed in your lifetimes.”

Curie: “Please proceed, Monsieur.”

Moderator: “Thank you.  Over the past few days, we have seen many devices demonstrated by company executives that are meant to simplify…”

Eastman: “Are you saying that executives themselves are simplifying something?”

Moderator: “No.  Let me finish and you see what I am trying to say.”

Edison:  “As both inventor and company man, I can tell you that simplifying your work for the public is no easy challenge.  Why, look at Tesla here.  Does anyone remember who he is.  I bet Westinghouse would have a thing or two to add if he were he.  By the way, where is he?”

Moderator: “Well, we put out a call for him but instead, strangely enough, we received an RSVP from a musical act calling itself AC/DC.”

Edison: “Very interesting.  Yet, you also invited me.  Were you trying to send a message?”

Marconi: “Who, me?”

Moderator: “No.  Please let me continue…”

Curie: “Gentlemen.  Let our moderator finish what he had to say.”

Moderator: “Thank you.  Anyway, we have a lot of devices to talk about so I’ll get right to it.  We have placed on the table in front of you several of the latest products — some of them still in the prototype stage — that we would like you to comment upon.  Let’s start with this one, the Motorola Droid Razr Maxx HD.  Who would like to comment first?”

Tesla: “Okay, I will bite.  What is this interesting toy?”

Moderator: “This is a mobile phone.”

Tesla:  “A phone, you say?  Where is the receiver?”

Moderator: “Well, that’s the thing, sir.  You see, it is the receiver.”

Tesla: “A-ha.  I see this is like a tiny television, is it not?”

Moderator: “Yes.  Good analogy.  You’ll also be glad to know that it uses wireless technology to send and receive radio signals…”

Marconi:  “A wireless?  Why didn’t you say so?  How do you power this device?”

Moderator: “With a battery.”

Edison: “AC or DC current?”

Moderator: “DC.”

Edison: “Very exciting.  I can see why Westinghouse chose not to show up.  What about this musical act, AC/DC?  Did they finally decline the invitation?”

Moderator: “No, they decided to show up by proxy.  Here, let me show you.  Mr. Marconi, if you will hand me the phone…?”

Marconi: “Certainly.”

Moderator: “I’ll just bring up the music app…”

Eastman: “‘Music app’?”

Moderator: “Oh, sorry.  This phone has its own built-in memory…uh, well, not unlike camera film…”

Eastman: “Really?”

Moderator: “No…I mean…well, Ms. Curie, your research into radioactivity, combined with Einstein’s work on relativity, has opened up many engineering and science fields, including work on erasable memory.”

Tesla: “You can erase memories now?  Fascinating…”

Moderator: “Well, not human memories, I mean…”

Tesla: “Oh?  Well, that’s too bad.  Imagine being able to erase ordinary memories from your mind so you could create more room for important research…”

Moderator: “Anyway, let’s get back on schedule.  Inside this phone, like most of the devices we’ll review today, are miniaturised computing and memory units, not unlike the analog computers some of you are familiar with.  Back to the demo!  Here is what the rock band AC/DC sounds like…” [plays “Back in Black” by AC/DC]

Einstein: “Very interesting use of distortion…”

Moderator: “Yes, these are electrified instruments.  If you gather closer, you can see the band performing.”

Curie:  “Looks like that young man is wearing his pants a little short, n’est pas?”

Einstein: “I am impressed that the men can see what they’re playing with their hair so long.”

Moderator: “Yes, I understand what you mean.  Anyway, let’s move on.  Here is the next device, the Nokia Lumia 920.”

Tesla: “Why is it sitting on that little hot plate?”

Moderator: “Well, sir, this is exactly the sort of thing I thought you’d appreciate.  The ‘hot plate,’ as you call it, is a wireless charger for the battery.”

Tesla: “Wireless electricity?!  If I was still alive, I would be sainted for this, wouldn’t I?”

Moderator: “Yes, sir.  In fact, there is a movement to do just that.”

Tesla:  “All those years in isolation, fearing that no one would understand me in this or any century, let alone on this planet…”

Moderator: “And for you, Mr. Eastman, this phone has a camera.”

Eastman: “What do you mean?”

Moderator: “In fact, there are two cameras, one that faces away from you and one that faces you, which detects your face and will turn off if you stop looking at it.”

Eastman: “Amazing.  But this is all it can do?”

Moderator: “We have more product offerings to show you from manufacturers such as LG, HTC, Amazon and Apple…we can get to those later.  So far, what do you think about our incredible technical achievements?”

Einstein: “I don’t know.  I mean, we had telephones and cameras in my day…”

Tesla: “And I demonstrated wireless radio so long ago…”

Marconi: “No, I did.”

Tesla: “Whatever you choose to believe is up to you…”

Curie: “But what do they do, exactly?”

Moderator: “Madame, these devices — the smartphones and tablets, as we call them — allow scientists and doctors from around the world to gather together in realtime.”

Eastman: “So you have solved the problem of teleportation?”

Edison: “Yes, has the ultimate goal that us scientists, engineers and inventors kept from the public — traveling through space and time — reached fruition?”

Moderator: “Not exactly.  Check this out.  You can see one another’s faces and hear your voices nearly instantaneously, though.”

Tesla: “And all this takes place wirelessly?”

Moderator: “Yes.”

Tesla: “This is all you have achieved in the decades since I’ve been gone?”

Moderator: “Well, not exactly.  We have sent men to the moon…”

Curie: “No women?”

Moderator: “That’s right.  But more than one woman has gone into outer space…”

Curie: “…and cured cancer by now, I imagine.”

Moderator: “Not exactly.”

Together: A collective sigh.

Tesla: “So what you’re saying is that the work we’ve done is just being worked and reworked all over again, combining and recombining the hard years of research for which we sacrificed our lives, our reputations, our…”

Einstein: “Precisely my thoughts.  I suppose by now someone has absolutely proved or, God forbid, disproved my theories and moved on to more important science?”

Moderator: “Not exactly.”

Einstein: “I see.”

Nakamatsu: “You may think that these are unimportant achievements but I can tell you that the research does not progress as fast as you think it does.  Just like in your day, there is so much competition that a lot of redundancy prevents inventors like us from making significant progress.”

Khayyám: “These smartphones, as you call them.  What else can they do?  The tablets appear to be a magic slate of some kind.”

Moderator: “Yes, sir.  Let me show something that you might find interesting, as simple as it seems to us today — the graphing calculator function.  You just plug in the formula here…and a graph of the formula, or function, is displayed there.”

Khayyám: “Wonderful, wonderful.  It is poetry in motion!”

Tesla: “The more I see these things, the more I ask myself whether you have carried my research to its conclusion.  Can you control minds with these smartphones?  Is there a universal mind behind them?”

Moderator: “Sort of.  Some people call it the web browser-based search engine.  Others call it wikipedia, baidu or google.”

Khayyám: “‘Google’?  Is that a mathematical term?”

Moderator: “In a way, yes.  Some say it is an intentional misspelling of the word ‘googol,’ one followed by 100 zeroes.”

Khayyám: “So the universal mind is truly mathematical?  It is just as I thought.  I can return to my eternal meditation upon the true meaning of the philosophical poet who dabbles in mathematics.”

Moderator: “Well, that’s about all the time we have.  What I’m gathering from you is an intriguing mix of disappointment and satisfaction.”

Tesla: “Yes, your devices are fun to look at.  However, where are the brilliant minds of today?  Have they not advanced science any further?  Are they just building upon our old research?”

Einstein: “I suppose the atomic bomb is a thing of the past by now, given what you’ve shown us, opening up young people across the world to break down barriers of ignorance and connecting together their joy and vigour, ridding the world of unnecessary violence.  No, wait, don’t say it!”

Moderator and Einstein in unison: “Not exactly.”

Moderator: “Thanks again for joining us.  Since it seems I have not completely impressed you with our ‘all-in-one’ devices, let’s reconvene in…let’s say, oh, another 100 years and see if I can’t knock your socks off, as the saying goes.”

Curie: “Don’t call me until you’ve found a cure for radiation poisoning.”

Tesla: “Don’t bother me until they’ve found more practical applications for my inventions like mind control or creating earthquakes to move mountains.”

Khayyám: “Call me anytime but give me more time to wake up from my meditative sleep, next time.”

Einstein: “Hey, if you don’t have to put me back to sleep right now, I won’t complain.”

Nakamatsu: “Wasn’t the floppy disk a great invention?  I thought so.  The tiny memory card there is not so different, is it?  Let me show you what I think it’ll turn into next…”

Edison: “I want to know one thing.  How many iterations will it take until those things are so tiny they’ll fit inside your ear where DC power is the only way to go?  Take that, Westinghouse, wherever you are!”

Marconi: “I’m with Tesla on this one, despite our previous differences.”

Tesla: “It’s about time…”

Moderator: “Yes, the concept of time is still something we share in common.  Until next time, dear readers!”

 

Just Another Gnome, Elf, Ogre, Dwarf or Fairy Tale

From watching a film titled “Monsters” that started in San Jose, Central America, to earthquakes that take place in San Jose, Costa Rica, we find instantaneous coincidental incidences that drive our storytelling off the charts.

Do you want your STEM experts/geniuses to gather their education on the spur-of-the-moment JIT (or JIT) need or do you want them to be SMEs or members of SMEs for SMEs on the spot, all the time?

Again, look at what South Korea is doing.

Business and wealth accumulation are just one of the many religions on this planet but not the only ones.

I have bowed to the gods of business — Dale Carnegie, Jack Welch, Bill Gates and Steve Jobs — but I hesitate to bend over for any of them anymore, now that my pile of gold is big enough and tall enough to stand on its own and look me in the eye.

My newfound wealth is the joy of discovering life around me that has no ties to wealth accumulation — the joy of idleness.

There is peace in sitting still and listening to the sounds of the universe.

But I have no offspring to protect and nurture, no legacy to protect, I remind myself, so my goals, or lack of them, are not yours.

I have let the whirlwinds of your desire for power and wealth drag me into your business, which is indeed very entertaining and quite honestly a change from day after day of hours of meditation on the meaning of a piece of lint on another planet.

It is easy to see how managing a species of 7+ billion can be thrilling, even seductive.

My life is limited and slipping away, lost temporarily in your world of political maneuverings and power struggles.

I have watched the invention of the computer change very little in 50 years — going back and forth from one version of the dumb terminal

to another

ooh…look, honey, they’ve reduced a desktop computer down to the size of a handheld writing tablet with text too tiny to read with these middle-aged eyes!  And now it’s wireless!  Whoo-hoo!  Break out the moonshine — they’re calling ’em phablets now!!!  Why, afore you know it, they’ll figure out how to convert my blood straight to pure grain alcohol without the need o’ swallowin’ the dadgum rotgut to begin with.  Maybe even keep muh liver from picklin’, too!  Yee-haw!

Oh well, I’m just happy that there are young people today who care about formal education in moderation while keeping their eye on the big picture, whatever that means to them — advancing the field of pure science or working on the latest smartphone app for pure profit, or doing nothing at all, if they so please, living on the dole and telling each other tall tales (“Yes, I ran an ultramarathon in under 2 hours but the government wants to keep it a secret because I’m a special agent keeping you safe from invisible aliens.”).

Yet Another Workday

She sat down with her friends.  “We are Womyn — hear us roar!!!” she proclaimed to the rushing waters of the river in the bottom of the canyon below them.

They rested for a moment, some taking swigs from their collapsible, BPA-free drinking jugs, some chewing on energy bars and some photographing their friends.

Palatia looked at her mobile phone.  “Does anyone have a recent photo of Ellen?  This ol’ talk show still photo doesn’t do her justice.”

The tinest piece of lint floated out of a space between Palatia’s thumb and her mobile phone.

The lint followed the invisible, random path of static electricity, air currents, solar radiation and macromolecules suspended in the dry air.

None of the day hikers knew what the lint was doing there, let alone why.

The lint had no discernible thought patterns to speak of.

But the lint was the most important link between that moment and a moment hundreds of years later.

Palatia pushed earbuds millimetres from her eardrums, cranked up some retro k.d. lang tune on her mobile phone and stood up.  “Bag your trash!  Pack your gear!  Let’s roll!”

The lint was dragged along with the hikers for a while before a cool breeze from the valley pushed up over the canyon rim and turned the lint in another direction.

History was in the making.

Palatia was a key component of the cogs and wheels of social change on the day she decided to call in sick and skip her shift at the fast food factory labeled “Grab-n-Go Burgers, 24/7.”

The deliverer of a piece of lint.

Lint that carried a genetic message.

A message intended for someone not yet “born,” the culmination of years of research, a being not quite any one species, neither completely organic nor completely electromechanical.

The lint didn’t earn a wage, didn’t pay taxes, didn’t travel roads or depend on national defense to perform its function.

The lint didn’t breathe, it didn’t eat, it didn’t earn an education, it didn’t produce heirs and it didn’t vote.

Yet the lint was more important than all the billions of people who earn a wage, pay taxes, travel roads, depend on national defense to perform their function, breathe, eat, earn an education, produce heirs and vote.

Events millions of years later in a single galaxy were traced to the piece of lint.

The lint, though inanimate, was analysed, idolised and denigrated as if it was once alive.

What if a cloud had obscured the Sun from a group of hikers one day?

What if it had rained?

More than one “if” fills volumes of historic pondering about a piece of lint.

We call them genetic markers.

The lint called itself nothing.

Yet here it is, studied as if it had intent in at least one “if.”

All because a worker in a minimum-wage job decided to tell her shift supervisor “fuck you” and take the day off, absolutely no thought about changing the course of galactic history.

Simple scenario, you ask, too simple?

The truth is plainer than you think it is.

The Dream of an ice-free Arctic Ocean/Sea shipping zone is soon upon us!

We may debate the current/future detrimental effects of climate change many call global warming, but let us remember that opportunity arises from adversity like necessity is the mother of invention.

Look how much closer we are getting to an ice-free Arctic Ocean/Sea in the summertime:

[from: http://nsidc.org/data/seaice_index/images/daily_images/N_timeseries.png%5D

Will the shipping industry find significant cost savings with permanently open shipping lanes at northern latitudes?

Will the savings, in turn, correlate to reduced use of greenhouse gases?

Meanwhile, as Greenland ice masses melt further, how will our shopping/shipping habits change in relation to our ecosystem adjustments while shorelines recede and deserts grow?

At the end of the day, who benefits and who suffers depends a lot on our species’ classic characteristics of pecking order — alpha males/females, etc.

 

What is lambda over pi?

In the part of the world where I burn fossil fuel to push a four-wheeled vehicle over paved roads, I often encounter math geeks proudly displaying an unusual symbol that I can only describe as lowercase lambda over pi.

These geeks refer to themselves by a moniker that makes even less sense than the symbol — the Crimson Tide — expressing their sheer delight that math equations equate to broken bodies on a field of play, preferably of young men on the other side of the line, some on “offense,” some on “defense,” and some on “special teams.”

Where did this mathematical symbol originate and what does it mean, precisely:

Beware Greeks geeks bearing gifts — that’s all I have to say!

Finally, a quiet nod to a humble man who preferred anonymity for taking one step on behalf of his species in appreciation for the math, engineering, science and technology that allowed him to put his bootprints on a natural satellite circling our planet.

Thanks to the kind folks at the Main Dish in Meridianville, Alabama, who served up a delectable meal for my wife and me and told us about a show on the tellie called Restaurant Impossible which features the family and decor changes that transformed an old ice cream parlour interiour into an elegant roadside steakhouse.  Casey — blonde hair or brunette — your service was perfect.

There once was a dog named Vetch

While the Venezuelan government decides whether to threaten the U.S. and/or British intelligence agencies for the recent destruction of vital equipment meant to scare Central and South American countries into submission, the Association for the Assertion of Ascension assessed the accuracy of counterterrorism techniques taught in typing pools.

Very cool.

Now, a word from our sponsor:

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Well, we here at Bullseye Tech have just the service you need.

As you’re probably aware, we’ve provided surveillance data to governments around the world for years.

Why, just this week we were asked by your government to plant a person in each showing of a film about what the world will be like if your current chief executive is reelected.  These casual observers have been capturing facial snapshots of all the audience members, evaluating emotions displayed during specific scenes in the film, and recording private conversations they carry on while entering the theatre, watching the film and exiting in order to ascertain the range of voice intonations that indicate shock, surprise, agreement and/or controlled rage.

In other words, does a documentary like this simply serve to reinforce beliefs, strongly or weakly held?  Can it actually change voting patterns?

In addition, we use DMV data of the audience’s vehicles to gather property ownership, tax history and election data captured in private voting booths.

Select members of the audience were tagged with waterproof audiovisual and GPS data collection devices that send information on an hourly basis for up to 48 hours and then self-destruct, resembling bird droppings, splattered food and other innocuous substances often found on clothing and motor vehicles.

By determining the film’s effect on the actual voting and shopping behaviours of our government’s “customers,” we help keep the local economy running at its current level of inefficiency in order to destroy the economies of rival governments in other parts of the world.

As you can see, we have our fingers on the pulse and our probes on the thoughts of any and every customer you can imagine, from pet spiders to neglected great-aunts.

Give us a call today because we already know your business is about to go under due to the services we provided to your rivals who, for now, are one step ahead of you.

However, if you buy our latest technology, you’ll have a competitive edge on your rivals who were unwilling to pay for upgrades.

Don’t delay! Time is a commodity you can’t afford to lose when price is no object!

We return you to the limerick contest currently in progress:

There once was a dog named Vetch
Who played a mean game of Fetch;
His owner, though blind
Was not very kind —
Ordered his dog to catch, then retch.

Back to the storyline currently taking place in the unmapped borough of Progress, Ecuador

An insider inside the insidious secret buildings of an unnamed organisation shared secret inside information with me secretly inside a restaurant where the old-fashioned switcherooski trick of placing a USB stick inside the secret sauce of a sweet dish delivered a soothing sensation.

In other words, I learned why children in certain neighbourhoods are encouraged to open the valves on fire hydrants.

For years, the unnamed organisation has tracked vehicles by placing pedestrian tracking devices on them — namely, fluorescent dyes and radiative markers — that allowed surveillance personnel to follow a quickly-fading trail of vehicles passing through these uncertain, certain neighbourhoods.

With GPS trackers, the ability to tail a suspect has changed.

However, the pedestrian methods still work.

So, yesterday, in cooperation with local unnamed authorities, I placed a few untraceable chemicals in my power washer fluid so that vehicles passing through my neighbourhood and driving through the liquid crossing the road in front of my house can provide backup data for the GPS trackers.

Also, some parents who have signed on for “Track my kids at any cost” program will be given the appropriate data to approach their children about their unregulated behaviour patterns.

Needless to say, military institutes for the improvement of teenagers have, as usual, tapped into the database to refine their prediction algorithms for future enrollment preparation.

Meanwhile, Central and South American countries are deciding whether to prove once and for all that the UK, with its depraved and decadent royal family members, is ripe for a full-scale invasion, aided by years of secret infiltration of British organisations through liberal immigration policies.

In the old days, invasions were carried out by a large armada.

Those days are behind us.

These days, invasions are decades-long in implementation, ensuring that the invaded country never sees what happened to it.

“Divide and conquer” is meticulously carried out in excruciating detail, through propaganda campaigns delivered by organisations within the invaded country itself, by using subliminal messaging of the highest order (disguised in the lowest common denominator).

Common courtesy requires that I tell you no more.

Besides, I accidentally swallowed the USB stick in the styrofoam container of delicious leftovers.

Nothing like a normal bodily function to delay the release of more data, such as what you were doing taking a shortcut through a specific neighbourhood and why Ecuador has more positive press than a country that should be basking in the warmth of Olympic fever but, instead, was brought to its virtual international knees by the simple act of diplomatic immunity for a simple whistleblower.

Horatio Hornblower would be proud.

When you have a whole species dangling from your fingers like marionettes on the small stage of the theatre of life, for your sole soul entertainment, life is good.

Laura lost 45 pounds and Jenn continues to celebrate her good health after a debilitating accident.  Life is better.

Overheard in a theatre

Sadly, I guess the times of my passive-aggressive father are over.  In his day, I doubt we would have heard someone make such a bold, impolite, immoral statement as, “Well, yes, Bill Clinton cheated on his wife, but he was the U.S. President, for Christ’s sake.  Of course, it makes sense that he still represents the Democratic Party.  ‘W’ was a whore man himself before he conveniently found Jesus and cooperated with the Muslim Saudis in selling out American oil interests.  He ‘conveniently’ still represents the Republican Party, too.”

So many cynical observations about promiscuous politicians and teachers, so little time to tell them.  Thank goodness, the film “The Campaign” was enough to tie me over for a while and fill in for such a bleak political election campaign season here in the ol’ US of A, where neither of the two primary candidates for U.S. President can talk about why the American economy is doing so poorly due to their being owned by the same worldwide corporate lobbying interests.

The last two paragraphs are examples of the influences on my youth, which I am trying hard to remove from my set of operational memories.

It is while we prepare the storyline to ease over to another planet (thanks, in part, to the friendly folks at Need Another Seven Astronauts (NASA)), where we will talk about life in the universe that does not center on our species, as puny as it is in comparison to the history of helium or cilia or syphilis/gonorrhea.

I am in a mischievous mood, wanting to make fun of others for the sake of making fun of others with no purpose in mind other than to entertain myself here, rather than in my thoughts alone.

Have you ever sat in a dark theatre, felt a constriction in your chest, the left side of your body going numb for just the briefest of moments, and wondered, “Is this it?”

I can feel it again right now.  Maybe it’s just a muscle twitching after I swept the driveway yesterday.  Or indigestion.

I hope so.

I really would like to sit and laugh quietly for many days longer.

If not…well, it was a good ride.

“It.”  Hmm…

“It” is nothing more than my life, a diversion for other sets of states of energy programmed to reproduce.

I never reproduced.

Scientific studies indicate that reproducing at my age is a recipe for heightened risk of autistic children who would drink out of plastic bottles made with BPA and filled with high fructose corn syrup, take antibiotics and become obese, and, finally, succumb to the onerous labels of “BIG” — BIG farms, BIG Pharma, BIG…you get the picture, if you subscribe to the notion that it’s an “us vs. them” world.

I never met BIG.  I don’t know “them.”  They are just words to me, diversions from a goal one gazillion years in the making, looking back 1000 years from now to see what we’ve accomplished.

Milestones, not accusations.

Actions, not passive disagreement.

A colleague of my father jokingly called my dad an imaginary engineer because of his master’s degree in industrial engineering (even saying so to my father a few days before he died), which always irritated my father.  Now, an industrial engineer is in charge of the largest company in the U.S. by stock value — Apple.  Who gets the last laugh?

That’s the thing.  If this moment is my last one, do I want to have my last thoughts focused on a clever joke or expanding the life of this planet into the cosmos?

I don’t want to spin a passive-aggressive take on a reworked warmed-over punchline.

I sure don’t want to be remembered for simply being clever.

I don’t want to be remembered at all.

This universe is it, all I’ve got, the only verifiable theory of life as I know it.

If I don’t give my minute/tiny/invisible/forgettable place in life a serious thought, who will?

If I don’t have my father around to argue with that the world is not falling to the Nazis and Communists all over again, to whom do I direct my attempt to make peace with my father and our generational gap?

If I don’t have my mother in-law around to convince that the United States is not about to go into another Great Depression (or worse) because a man who is too young (and black) is the U.S. President, to whom do I say that it’s not just white people and old people who care about the American Dream of [democracy and/or capitalism] and freedom for all?

It was a tough decision to say I would never vote again because I care about the higher ideals of our country and our world.  The everyday arguments of this time, of my generation, are perennial — that’s why I don’t care about them.

My visions are hundreds and thousands of years in the making, carrying on a long tradition passed on to me by others, regardless of the current form our organisation of life (i.e., civilisation) may look like.

War and the desire for peace are perennial.

Using available resources until they are depleted and worrying about the consequences are perennial.

That’s why I don’t care about them or the ways we beat our chests like good primates in unison about our alignment with issues such as these.

In the big picture, our species is unimportant.

We aren’t going to agree with the big picture until something else comes along to change that view.

Even then, we’ll argue that our ancestors — the keepers of our origin stories — were right and we’re the center of the universe.

So be it.

You can keep perpetuating those stories in whatever form you like, if it makes you feel better as you procreate.

As long as you keep in the wee spot at the back of your thoughts that you’re working for a larger cause than our species.

I use “cause” cautiously and facetiously because it implies more than what a single blog entry in a continuous storyline is supposed to be about, bringing up imagery of the influences upon my youth again, when this is solely about the way the universe works non-anthropomorphically.

Enough for now in this chapter.

More as it develops…