Looking through the dusty bedroom window in the late morning sunlight, I saw yellow, lots of yellow…
Dirt and dust from Plains’ states, a plain state of dirt and dust, plane wood, plane wings, stated simply, plainly, mainly.
A hunter’s paradise, a Halloween scene, a setting for a Sorcerer soundtrack, a story tinged with subplots from “Special/RX.”
What about Collins by Samuel Johnson?
Many say that the American late-night TV satire called “Saturday Night Live” has a rather geriatric feeling to it.
Well, recent evidence points out why.
The lead writer, Seth Meyers, is actually an old Catskills “Borscht Belt” entertainer trying to pass himself off as a hipcat daddio of a comic, thanks to modern CGI effects:
An alien or just a regular NYC citizen with multiple personalities?
Apparently, as we age, we gain more digits in addition to lengthening noses and ears?
Or is Seth an alien unfamiliar with, but trying to understand, our culture?
More as it develops…
Dust and skin oil collect in the rounded corners of the touchpad.
Tiredness fights for the right to take this body to bed and slumberland.
One brief moment, where a sole statistic, the number of teen/young adult suicides, helps decide an election.
A prime minister clicks her heels and ends up sprawled in front of the Gandhi memorial — she’s not in Kansas, that’s certain — why does she wear high(er) heels to walk on grass?
A tree faces the wind without a face.
How does schooling teach teamwork rather than individual test score achievement?
A nephew has a private discussion with a Supreme Court Associate Justice (Scalia), (con)firming his decision to pursue a law(ful) career, setting political beliefs/opinions aside.
Sleep is a stronger attraction than sighting/siting/citing the future.
The next chapter races dreams for a place in this blog…
Notice the man in the newspaper article below.
He’s smiling, almost smirking. Could he be addicted to prescription medication?
See yellow arrow: is this the reason? Most likely!
Could his smile use a makeover? Probably! Now that he’s in jail!
Dentist Angela R. Cameron has a market she never dreamed of — getting the state legislature to mandate full dental benefits for prison inmates, with her as sole provider for making over the smiles and changing the lives of convicts.
Never miss a market opportunity staring you in the face with an open mouth!
Who says you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth?!
In the old days, we would use sages, oracles, fortunetellers and technological/economic forecast analysis experts to pin future bad news on our perceived enemies.
A new type of consciousness emerged, however, and turned us away from creating enemies out of one another.
To be sure, we can’t stop the impediment of history where subcultures, unwilling to fully merge with the growing consensus, form those side pools and eddies that spin off of pebbles we dropped in the pond eons ago and start to sour rancidly.
C’est lava, as the vulcanologists like to say to earthquake predictionists.
Share and steal alike — no matter, mon!
The crystal ball was made of 79.5618003% pure cocoa, inviting hungry card readers to the table for a séance with the ghosts of vanilla beans past.
It was a monstrous mash of fermenting corn.
All of a sudden, the future was so shaded, we had to invite the Brights to explain the cost-benefit ratio of secularism to moral imperatives at the imperial palace of executive privileges.
But we’re cool with that.
A cup of tea with dice while throwing rice stalks to read the divination tables was more comforting to the picotrading subroutines than algorithmic hanging chads in the deserted Saharan mountains of Chad.
We decided our fates were written in the stars already.
Cast words to the wind and let the weighty wheat separate from the fluffy chaff.
We sew blankets and quilts of symbols every day for your warmth and security.
Some of you will eat our words.
The spoils of war are no more.
These days, we’ve joined forces to compete against the harshness of outer space, where the only indication of winning is being alive another day to observe and report the changes we’ve forgotten we documented before the last time we documented that we forgot to forget that we documented our good fortune in continuous cycles of bliss.
Happiness is contagious — pass it on!
Now that I’m a patriarch (quasi? semi?), I guess it’s time to get serious about the family tree, see where the roots and branches spread…
Standing on this stump, looking forward and back, back and forth, in time, is an interesting, yes, even dizzying, perspective!
Have you ever sat down to write a story?
Any kind — fiction, tall tale, business case study, autobiography?
And, with the thinnest of plots, started writing, regardless of plausible outcome?
Or did you pause, chronicling the writing process itself for fun?
Friends of mine gave me a new device to play with.
Combining a modified through-the-wall radar unit, microfacial/skin movement detection webcam software routines, and a black box they won’t tell me what it contains, I can, while looking rather geeky wearing a fanny pack, walk down the street and read people’s thought processes, not just feel their “mirror” neurons firing in sync with mine.
But how do I know if the device works as my friends promised?
Easy!
Try it on myself, of course.
If I look at myself in the mirror, I am a woman about 5′, 8″ tall, 125 lbs, brunette hair and green eyes.
I have a great personality which makes my ordinary looks more appealing than the average bear.
Oh, I forgot to tell you. I am a woman bear with higher-than-normal intelligence, thanks to my “parents,” who programmed my genetic material to create a humanlike child in personality inside the figure of a brown bear.
Anyway, I set the device in front of me and let it read my thoughts.
According to the device, I am thinking about writing a short story, my back itches where I can barely reach it, there’s an almost imperceptible buzzing sound in my ears and I’m hungry.
But wait! That’s not all!
I can see the early sketches of the short story taking place, with snippets of previous conversations flowing through my thoughts, images both real and imagined merging into background scenes for characters studies I haven’t formulated yet.
Ah-ha! My right ear is buzzing much louder. My boyfriend wants my attention and, thanks to long-range wireless enhancement of my “love/sympathy/mirror” neuron network, he can get it.
Talk about fuzzy logic!
What is love if we don’t immediately respond when our loved ones really need us?
Oh well, gotta go. I’ll complete this short story another time. I need a good doorframe to scratch my back first!
After years of back-room wrangling, leaders of every major sport played on or near Earth announced a two-tier approach to their individual sports.
For instance, in the Olympics, athletes who use no enhancement drugs will compete in the same event with those who do. Two separate award ceremonies will be held for every event, giving the best three who use use enhancement drugs, and the best three who don’t, Olympic medals.
Same for individual awards in cricket, football, baseball, hockey, basketball, cycling, swimming, running, motorsports, wrestling, etc.
That way, we keep a sense of honesty and integrity out of the picture, allowing “dopers” to show the latest advances in medical enhancement technology and non-dopers to show the latest advances in “natural” training methods.
As the saying goes, may the best team/player win!
They talked about the convergence, the “singularity,” but they didn’t see themselves existing in a time after the moment passed.
At first, we wrote tales about gods and science fiction stories about automatons, robots and imagined some perfect/dystopian future in which we interacted with artificial beings.
Then, as time collected in history books, we lost track of the changes.
Our toys became more sentient than ourselves.
Our friends turned into cyborgs without us noticing.
We augmented our reality so slowly that we missed when we no longer depended solely on our memories and person-to-person storytelling to describe our worlds, the reality around us.
In a flash, cave drawings, hieroglyphics, books, computers and ubiquitous bioelectronic network technology became part of our lives.
It was one small step forward for the solar system, transforming a single species into a management system for one planet that expanded on to other planets and eventually beyond the edges of the solar system itself.
We thought we were in control.
Little did we know the convergence, the “singularity,” happened millennia ago.
We, the current seven billion, are a tiny snapshot of the post-convergence generation.
Singularity is an antique term no longer applicable.
It is time to get ahead of ourselves and see what we’ve really become.
Look back 1000 years from now, or even just a few hundred…
…understand why so many of us appeared weak, soft, spoiled and easily hypnotised by our well-developed self-hypnosis techniques handed to us by generations of ancestors slowly coalescing via mass hypnosis.
We will talk about the present-viewed-from-the-future tomorrow.
Tonight, sleep well. Get some rest. Let your dreams comfort you.
Then, when most of you are fully awake, we will describe the future where we no longer have to fear ourselves or each other anymore.
G’night!
The producers of the film, “Kick-Ass,” expressed their wishes to dedicate their movie to the girl, Malala Yousafzai, for her courageous stand for girls’ education and survivor of an attack by the Taliban.
The graphic novel creators have not confirmed they are writing a fourth book in the series of the story expressly turning Malala into a Pakistani superhero.
treetrunkdings 