Tic Tac Dough – They’re tryin to Build a Prison

 

I went a System of a Down Concert a few years ago.    Their music is right in many ways and on many issues.    For example,  they had a song called,  The Prison Song!   Not only was the music and program awesome,  but the song became personal.

At the end of the event as people were exiting a few decided to climb over railings and beat the crowd out of the Sun Dome.   But one of the police/guards,  whatever they call them decided to say get down or they would be arrested!   These young people need not to be threatened but they were!

Being a renown smart-ass  I  shouted,  “They’re trying to build a prison!!!”.    Hails of laughter swept through the crowd as a response to the scene and to the police’s actions against the students.

 

 

I was watching the News and saw the many dirty conditions in Africa and the threat that poverty has become generational in so many places.     Africa, who lives there and do they have faces?  The easy answer is,  YES!

Now what happens to Gwyneth Paltrow when there is another crash in the stock market?  Like one day she will  be that actress who did not garner many fans and her natural beauty fades?   There is so much hunger and poverty in the world and yet she looks down on others?

Too many people in Hollywood find their best gucci shoes and sunglasses to mask the ugliness in their hearts.  Sad too,  because many people look up to that wandering cesspool of self-righteousness robots until they too become frail and then want to have someone to care. I would but then again only because she is in need.

Are we better than these,  Gwyneth?     Could you tell her that her children do matter?  Do they need to make 100,000 dollars per year and will cry over the graves of the starving,  sick and homeless victim of circumstances?

Go to work as a volunteer as a support group facilitator.    That nation also suffers this damnable Ebola breakout.    And the headline below:

Ebola cases appear in DR Congo; doctor given promising drug dies in Liberia

http://www.cnn.com/2014/08/25/world/africa/ebola-outbreak/

 

And these people tell us how it is?    And sports are no better!

And just so true.   I have a seizure disorder and I know how it feels to be a soup line,  sleeping in my car with a cat.    I know of two more veterans,  one who has terminal cancer and the other a 78 year old who car is full of “Stuff” and he goes to places where he can to get out of heat or cold,  such as the case may be.    I have an  entrepreneurial idea that I plan to share to those woe begotten cardboard box souls.

Cops showed him,   didn’t they?

Warring with virtual corpses in a mad dash to nowhere and regardless of petty crimes,  we acquiesce and even endorse their actions against the unfortunate.   There are people who have Asphasia,   tri-geminal neuralgia (tic douloulreux ).   Many are bi-polar,   poorly educated and not too cogent.   Cops know not enough to attend them properly but rather do what you see above.

Bill Maher: “This country is becoming a police state, it is very troubling to me”

 

 

Mississippi Moon/Feels Right

Our muses can be a backdrop to tragedy or romance or maybe both.   Like a land lost or perhaps never appreciated.    The neglected places evoke memories of a secret nightmare in a three-dimensionable world  both exclusive and shared with one or more.

The silhouettes like palm fronds on a channel quiet measuring the years by colors by the seasons and washing away wistful prayers, odes to antiquity.

Some prefer the lights, the confusion and the din but I want to live life not as part of an ant farm in some condemned city of rats and dirty hazes.

Ole Miss are making a comeback to relevance

 

 

Mediating Reality and Politics.

One of the more frustrating aspects of dealing with people is that they read a book on let’s say, ‘Physics’.   They read just enough to have an opinion and then can’t be bothered.   In essence, that becomes their politics.   They fancy their notions but do not engage with them.

The first principle is that you must not fool yourself and you are the easiest person to fool.

Science itself is still in it’s veritable infancy.  The things we will know later will dwarf us in the here and now.   And the climate change debate will crystalize.    Not an answer driven by political correctness but we will have done ‘real due-diligence’.   Not throwing talking points as real science.

People want everything gift-wrapped into tight little packages that are easy to explain but when you get beneath the dogma, there is nothing but that dogma.   Logically then or rather illogically they go back to their default position as with the topic of ‘Climate Change’.    They refer back to the experts,  whatever that might be.   Many of these same people then refer to the religious as deferring to fairy tales.

Stephen Hawking has the Higgs-Boson to fall back on and considering the fact that he has beaten the odds,  doesn’t see the irony.  As if the fact that my friend died after a year after he was diagnosed.   He too,  had ALS.    The difference being that he was a professing Christian while the former must imagine some last minute intervention or like many unbelievers that his mass will not destroyed.  I  guess.

If I left the world being the most dissipated man of all time,  and did not feel the slightest compunction at being a  jerk,  then maybe I too could go on without asking the biggest question…..why?  Why in my honest evaluation of myself,  I could not even hint at being some kind of saint or above it all.

So maybe we fancy ourselves to be many things.   Perhaps an Opera Star, a Poet or maybe we were born to be a leaf.  One that has fallen during Autumn who is slated for a burn barrel of the compost pile.   We are even less than the worst of miscreants,  who we should assume ourselves to be.   This is not self-flagellation but simple perspective.   The nascent rise of real science can upset a lot of realities.   But is that Immutable Perfect Being really interested in “our take”?    And would it necessarily disprove anything of the nature of God?

This diagram shows changes in the rate of expansion since the Big Bang. The shallower the curve, the faster the expansion rate. There's a notable change in the curve around 7.5 billion years ago, when astronomers think a mysterious, dark force caused objects to fly apart at a faster rate. NASA/STSci/Ann Feild

At that point,  were we even cognizant of our plight relative to people,  what then?

 

Life is more than elaborate set of rules but the worst part of that is maybe no one really cares who good you think you are,  much less than a sentient being of unimaginable power.  The fact that such a being would ever even care is worthy of our consideration.

Ultimately God makes his choice and is the only choice ever truly made by anyone or anything.  God is not like us,  he would be in all ways better and once we get that if we were a plot of clay,  he could dash that hardened clay against the wall and it would be fair.


That we are sentient, ought to reveal something very important about us and even more about God.   In the final analysis God is so fair,  that he would consider all of our arguments and is the perfect parent because unlike us,  he is truly impartial.  Those conferred with greater gifts now,  are not among the elite in heaven, but those with a humble heart,  who imagines humbly to be so unworthy of him.

Conversely we are antithesis of modesty and our self-aggrandizement is really evident we get so mired into those shows like ‘American Idol’ and that is just one program that intimates that someone is going to find us and see how wonderful we are.    Afterall everyone has some measure of greatness.   Really?  How about those who just CANNOT sing or act or paint a picture?

There has to be a special for them!   And why again?  This kind of mentality is part of the infantilism of the world today.  A 20 year old woman (many called her a girl) remonstrated that her life was miserable because her parents embarrassed her when she was 10.   The crime?   Her parents made her a Halloween costume and that poor girl was traumatized.  Yeah I bet a lot of people would love to trade places.

That person who you and I shrugged off.   That person we may have done charity for with an air of insolent disregard,  perhaps imagining that we are better and he or she is there by choice.   But as I see it, we can be that little boy or girl,  combing through sewage and refuse hoping to eat that.   Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs at play here my friends.

 

Not dogmas,  not same-sex marriage or even that man/woman arrangement.   Today we confer some kind of special birthright based on sexual proclivity,  racial orientation or our beliefs in some obscure frog or farflung religion.

 

It is one thing to rebel against injustice because there is some intrinsic value in that.   However,  a lot of this is just rhetoric.

Pay a dime to a cause and sleep well at night.   Is that going to be our legacy?  Do we ‘really’  lose sleep over all this terrible stuff in the world?

 

We more than most rich people get it.   We are more likely to suffer more substantially than billionaires and because of that we can more relate to the hurting.  But our answer basically mirrors the tax write-offs of the uber rich.   So maybe we are not so swell afterall.

The good message and point here is that someone does care but to know him we have to set aside all presumption.   We have to look at ourselves being the one hurting and really understand our own inherent leanings towards wrong.   I am NOT exempting myself from this either.   We all must do apart from hyperbole and most of all,  do it not for accolades or some measure of self-satisfaction.   Let the words silently minister to the hurting.

 

 

There is one thing that I want to do today and that is to ask those who hear to respond.   You will know question to that answer and you will find harmony and perfection.

 

 

 

 

 

The Bear and the Pond.

Cicero
On a quiet pond somewhere in the rolling hills of Oregon was a pond were three of a certain Bear Clan, father, mother and a small Bear in Diapers. Underneath the shade tree of her choice she attended to the little bear with affectionate concern. While the father Bear in his Man-Cave on top of a nearby mountain. Keeping watch.

The order here is depicted, of a certain setting, Father doing fatherly things, while Mom and the little Cub were fast about doing what they do. Preening and
playing in their quaint little place. There is Love here.

In God we Trust

Later on as the dew began to disappear and the Bees begun to gather, the infant Bear began to wander and is the case with Bears, they are inquisitive. The same with the smaller Bear, who happened to know a Frog on a lily pad. Dressed in green, naturally, on the Frog’s croak, gave it away.

Once the baby beast had spotted it’s quarry, it swam with purpose coming very close to the scene where the Frog looked quizzically as this furry marauder, anticipating something a bit unpleasant. Indeed the tiny hunter lifted it’s paw and both Frog and Pad became immersed and was gone.

But the little Bear had another idea. Why not climb upon a lily pad herself and make like a frog. But this plan with a bit flawed, might one say. With a whoosh and a ripple the Bear fell below the surface. However she was persistent and tried many times.

The problem is that the little Bear soon tired and then with no strength left, she like the Frog and the Pad slipped before the surface. The mother had been watching concernedly and roared and made it’s way to where the baby was.

The father bear dropped his remote and came rushing down the mountainside and into the water and saved the water-soaked Cub to their little spot beneath the large Willow Tree. There as a family they reposed. A lesson to all of them and the end of this story.

Floods

However in this story, the Bear never sleeps nor watches games of hieroglyphics on the wall. In common terms, “He’s got this”. The mother and baby are safe now as the distraught mother beseeched the Man on the Hill.

He is Risen

The Knocking and our missteps.

Falling Short

When want people to see us, we want them to see us, at our best.    But who is really ‘good’? And problems?  Everyone has those too.  Our goodness is relative anyway and goodness does not assure us of a totally happy existence.  And besides,  what do we really  know about each other?

Have you heard about the person who ALWAYS speaks his or her mind?   Usually they have very few friends and acquaintances who trust them.    And why do we tell people secrets,  as if we already knew they wouldn’t keep them?   Do we really enjoy the excitement of drama that is against us?

And how many times have we presumed to know what would be just a hypothetical?  That we would do such and such and say it always ‘them’?   The truth is,  we are all deceptive to one degree or another and this includes an inherent total depravity.   None of us wants to hear of our own weaknesses and dare I say it,  potential for evil?

Let’s face it,  we do at one point or another covet,  whether it is a person, a place or a thing.  That idyllic little something that would bring clarity and fulfillment and we would also do anything to get it?   I am no better and probably worse.   Though it is probably something that no one knows about.   Maybe some kinky sexual fantasy or an sudden impulse to break something.

It is also hard to accept that God may not want us.   He may simply pass us by and our relative goodness and our accumulated wealth would be for naught.  I believe at the very least we can have some perspective about us and others,  not assuming that our ‘goodness’ was not something intrinsic in us and that make our forever more agreeable.

The only intrinsic beauty is God.  A God who knows himself,  yet at the same time loves us.  He loves who he loves and who he doesn’t for whatever reasons is the way it is.  I am not being cavalier or judging your relative goodness or badness,  except to say,  we should practice good with God’s grace.

My cousin died at 22.  He was a very good man and it seems a shame.  But my opinion could never save him, due to an intrinsic flaw in all of us.   Look at story of the kids on an island.   At first life was harmonious but then human nature began to shape as it really is.   All I can say is be good and be humble and contrite.    And I am not saying be sad and that you cannot be happy most of the time,  but take it from me,  I am okay yet just as corrupt as anyone else, give or take.

Mark Twain

Gate Keepers

Gate Keepers

As we know more about a lot, we master nothing.    We toil and strive and then concede,  ultimately wallowing in the muck and mire of our own personal experiences.   We assume we are patently original,  suspiciously aware of our hypocrisy.    We claim we never lie and if we do then we do.

Sometimes in our youth,  we wish to cheat death or get as close as we can to that.  Impressing others of our bravado and recounting our glory years.    Like the song, ‘Those Were the Days My friend,   we thought they’d never end,   we sing and dance forever and a day.   We live the life we choose,  we fight and never lose,  those were the days,  oh yes, those were the days.’

There was a time in our life, when we romanticized love,  as if we were Romeo and Juliet,  or we might be Bonnie and Clyde.   We would make love as no one else could.   Like a Muse in a Xanadu,  we find our own reality,  as we move gracefully together.

But then something happened.  The Yellow brick road began to crumble and the house landed upon our love.   With a resounding thump and a crash of dishes,  our dreams faded like a late show re-run.

Those songs that inspired us,  were now a requiem,  sad and haunting.   Soon bitterness impaled our hearts and they become like stone.    And instead of skipping flat stones across a florid lake.

Florid Lake

So maybe we find a church ,   with a choir and we sing staid old songs,  as lifeless as a still-born dream.  We are reverent and judging,  but we judge others for their specks,  while redwoods roam in our eyes.

We can’t wait to leave and try to depart as soon as we can and we claim a god of opportunity to an end with no life,  like that old abandoned church.

We hear a knock from above,  wistful vapors of the unseen but our spirit consists of seeing images in an office building and tying meaning to a ship that never comes back.

It need not end this way.   In spite of unrequited love snatching us too early.  the knocks push upon us harder and the message is clear and unwavering.  Though all around are the indignant,  honest, godly church going people who flick ashes upon others.

We cannot find what we assumed was there until our hearts melt for the needs of forgiveness of our own missteps.   The harrowing nightmares we perpetrated on others,   while claiming some kind of victim-hood.

When we realize that we are there,  we will know we have arrived.   Our pretentions are like tumbleweeds drifting on a dusty road.   Yet in that abyss of faith,   we find ourselves trembling but more free.

Remember good is never good enough and if it will be,  it definitely be.  with no further side-slips on that precarious path.

 

The Paralytic View – Ismology 101, -Isms and their political intent.

I was reading where George Will was recently fired because of what he said, by basically saying that certain individuals enjoy a kind of sanctuary. Victims to him include those who hide behind that issue, whether it is an ailment, skin color and social orientation.

Those points are debatable but our society has deemed this off-limits. The sad part of that is the fact that free speech is being cut off and it is being done maliciously.

Like George Orwell’s’1984′, “more is less” and the combatants are growing exponentially and they change. The Washington Redskins are a perfect example. The leader behind all of this is decrying the name as racist and it might just be. As I have mentioned before, rape of the reservation is staggering and of course, many blame you and I.

Why isn’t that a bigger issue than a sports teams name? Politics! A putrefied dish of in your face. Like the little kid who provokes others and his big brother bails him out, all the while enjoy the fruits of his labor and finding a codicil in darkness.

It is time we take action. Stop marching and picketing as if this is civil rights. I bet most people do not even consider American Natives(Indians) in their daily prayers and ablutions, rather more a convenient excuse to harass and maim other people’s perspectives. Grow up America! Stop being the world’s arbiter of what is acceptable and what is not.

Stop hiding behind your big brother and fight this battle on an even basis and stop assuming that you are always right. I am wrong often but I do not use my party as justification for my deeds.

There are a myriad of social issues and I think we need to be kinder to one another. Stop trying to be that big brother who seems to be lurking, waiting, like a totem bowl with a ball point pen and easel. That easel is a book of life by people with no clue.

Another Silly Love Song of a Kind

Trees

We are like those leaves, once green seeking out the sun and a rich bounty of rain. The cycle goes carelessly on, as the waning sun departs dejected…. disconsolate. What troubles it’s soul? Little by little the changes appear but the problem is not the end, but the here and now.

Do you know what I mean? Kurt Vonnegut quickly deduced our primal stripes and the Freudian yearnings of yesteryear, where our own dominion seemed assured. Protecting a meager pot of Gold, we are like treasure seekers in a Pawn Shop. Desperate to feel alive we draw paintings on our skin in the vain hope of an extension of some kind. The wind does not abate, the scars are etched like the heart of hope of young lovers on a tree, their destiny uncertain.

I love

We try delaying the onset of Autumn not knowing what leaves might fall. Instead we clutch hope as elusive as water in our hands. The imprint we make depends upon us. Now think about it, just before the wind stops and the leaves turn different shades like rainbows in the forest. Meaning that maturity is not a curse.

Meaning that we, as older adults are not unappealing. We live as we are and if anything we are frank and so is our beauty, like the embrace of a mature mate, our hands fitting like Cinderella’s Slippers.

But many of us close the book assuming the end is rather near and why bother anyhow. The larger question is do we sit at home as the walls consume us or do we relinquish of our false notions and bare our souls to a compatible one. Like Eagles nested upon a towering rock we prevail in peace.

Honey frost

I cannot bring flowers to a deserted road and expect them to flourish. I can’t open your door and treat you like the angel that you want to be. Secure not in the number of rooms and a legacy of cash, but the heart-warming togetherness of a single one undivided. Or a Thanksgiving Dinner, when afterward we muse about the dinner but pine for each other.

So, is this you? Are you over 50 and not trying to over deliver? Do you want what you think is missing? I am here, in my late 50s, a songbird flapping my wings to garner your attention. Steadfastly I crave to know you. Plump is cool and wrinkles not a curse because the Princess and the Pea are just fairly tales like skinny waifs and bulimia. Beauty lies deep within our soul and the travesty is not to share it. With you my destiny.

I am not an angel but I will do. The measure of this man is counted as much but the nails I have driven and the tears shed silently behind a wall of frosted glass.

Romance is not dead and passion burns until we let the pilot light go on it’s way. We still have moments to share and places to be, together. So, if you are middle-aged and want a person who is relatively nice and as a generous as I can be, then I am that guy.