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A constant theme that comes up in our discussions is that of work.

We have to eat, we need a place to sleep, we need to clothe our bodies, and we need to take care of others in our familial units (pets included).  It is vital to a certain aspect of our survival.

But then there's the other part of survival.  The part that happens in the headspace. 

Life happens and we happen with it.  Events may dictate that we end up in a job or occupation that wasn't necessarily in our Top 5 when we were in 2nd grade.  While this situation may be less than ideal, it doesn't have to be a death, or life in prison sentence. 

The key is to attain, retain, and maintain that freedom in the head.  This can be difficult though while life is happening around you.  You are forced, by your boss, to do certain things to maintain employment, that may work against how you feel and think inside.  Maybe you need to start making cold calls, when you hate getting cold calls yourself.  Maybe you need to start declining more applicants, while you hate it when it happens to you.  But if you don't do these things, life will happen much more harshly when the income dries up.

So, much like many things in this world, it seems like being able to balance is key.  If you can walk the tightrope and keep your wits about you, you'll make it to the other end.  Your aide will be your balancing beam.  Maybe it's writing poetry/prose.  Maybe it's creating music.  Maybe it's sticking your hands in dirt in your back yard.  Maybe it's scaling the nearby rocky cliff.  Whatever it is, you need to keep it at hand.  To keep that headspace open and free.

Because suffocation is simply where you stopped breathing. 

Okay, something I've been gnashing on in the noggin lately.  I threw it on a Gliffy.

Basically, I was thinking about the BIP again.  Thinking about the bars. 

I've also been thinking lately about Identity and Self-Identity.  It would seem, to me, like when we think of "Who We Are", we are basing it on things that are in the forefront of our mind.  For example, I was born and raised in Aroostook County Maine, all of my adult life has been, NOT in Aroostook County Maine.  Yet, I still self-identify as an Aroostook County Mainer. 

So, I'm thinking about the bars again.  So, maybe, it's the bars that are those things in the fore-front, the elements of our Self-Identity.  And the "spaces" are the elements that DO affect who we are and how we behave, but we don't ourselves incorporate that into our Self-Identity, or at least, not in any meaningful way.  But, if we allow ourselves to become introspective, if we magnify the spaces between the bars, we recognize and see that the "spaces" are not spaces, but indeed smaller bars. 

Anyway, I know some have mentioned that the BIP has been played out, but I couldn't help these thoughts from coming out and I wanted to throw them out there nonetheless.  The graphic is to follow.

Okay, so in the WHN household I'm known and noted for 3 culinary delicacies:

Mac and Cheese
Coffee
and my piece de irresistance:  Grilled Cheese Sandwich. 

So, here's how I do it:

You got your bread.  I like to use a hearty bread like oatmeal, 12-grain, 7-grain, whatever.  But no white bread.  That's just wrong.

Anyhoo, I grill up some onions and peppers.  Usually Sweet Onion or Vidalia Onion and Red Peppers.  Though Orange and Yellow Bell peppers work nicely too.

For cheese: something with some kick.  My favorite is Sargento's Chipotle Jack Cheddar.  Two slices per sandwhich.

So you put your grilled veggies between the two slices of cheese and bread, butter the bread and grill.

I like to sprinkle the buttered bread with red pepper flakes, (and if I know for sure I'm not getting any that night) some garlic. 

So there you have it.  Yummy goodness. 

I'm thinking what the hell is going on? 

When did all of this blissful complacency set in?  Or has it always been there but I've only now, as a jaded, 30-something, begun to see it.

It's painfully obvious this war we're in was a sham from the beginning.  I mean, really, does it really take an astronomical leap of logic to figure out that the war in Iraq has nothing, I mean nothing to do with 9/11?

Boy howdy, we're we riled up when we got attacked.  Holy fuck, we're gonna go get them and rub their faces in it, after we lop their heads off.  We're going to feast on Apple Pie and Cracker Jacks out of their hallowed skulls.  And then Mr. Bush pulls the "Ooh, look at the shiny thing over there" trick.  And presto chango, we're shocking and aweing the wrong fecking desert. 

Oh sure Saddam was a bad dude.  But last I checked Chavez and Castro weren't exactly on America's MySpace Friend's list either.  When was the last time we even bothered to check in on the Serbian Slaughterers Mladic and Karadzic?  Yeah, I know, "Who?"  Well, you might as well add Bin Laden to that line-up because we're never going to find that bastard. 

But anyway, back to my original train of thought.  Where the hell is the outcry?  Did you catch the bit where Bush has pretty much said his current strategy for Iraq is "playing for October/November"?  To make it so the Presidential Nominees will be "more comfortable" with the idea of staying in Iraq?  That's right, Bush is literall playing Army Men, but instead of using the little plastic green guys, he's playing with the life-size version that ooze real blood.  It always has been a game, and we've been going right along with it.  The American People will opt-out of a Monopoly game (which actually can be won) lickety split, but we'll mire in this forever.

Why?

Because Americans are lazy-ass fat-asses.  Change is what you use to buy a donut from the donut shop.  Change is hitting the little rubber buttons on the remote to flip from Gene Simmon's Family Jewels to Nancy Grace.  The kind of change needed, to go from one state to another, is an evil concept balked and scoffed at. 

It requires thought.
It requires contemplation.
It requires consideration.
It requires fucking doing something.

To break out of the concrete mold of apathetic stasis.
To wrestle free from the bonds of blissful boredom. 
To put down the goddamned bag of Fritos, stand up, and leave the couch. 

But alas, the "safety" of the sofa outweighs the "freedom" in fighting. 
And so on it goes. 

My axes:



My keys:



And of course, the NoseFlute and other handy things:

Can any of you asshats play banjo?
More importantly, can you record yourself playing banjo?
More, more importantly, can you send said recording to me in digital form?

We look so hard that we forget where we are.
There is merit in a greater understanding.
But when we forsake our future for futile focus,
how much do we gain?

How bout making some tea from those tea leaves?
Go sit on your porch, stoop, whatever, and just fucking forget about everything for awhile.
Tune out, and tune in.

Silence can be very enlightening. 

Looks like we made an impression on at least one person, enough so that they actually translated and posted the thing. 

http://orkutcidio.wordpress.com/2007/07/24/black-iron-prison-parte-1-de-3/

I sometimes wonder...


...if the more connected we get, the more disconnected we get.  Since the late 80's early 90's the technology revolution has been wiring our society.  At the same time, in many facets of society, it is rewiring as well.

It used to be that if you wanted to have a chat with your buddy, you might call him up on your telephone or stop by for a visit.  Now, you can pick up a little device and forgo the face to face altogether. 

No doubt, it has expanded social circle possibilities.  The fact that we are all here talking to each other is testament to that.  However, what about our immediate and local social circles?  What about going out into the community to conduct business vs. sitting at your desk to conduct that business?  Instead of going to the local hardware store to buy some household needs, you can fire up HomeDepot.com and have it sent directly to you.  Convenience, yes.  But, no witty banter or conversatoin with a sales clerk. 

As we explore more of our world from the confines of our bedrooms, basements, etc., are we isolating ourselves more from that which is outside of our door?  Are we slowly phasing out that face to face, flesh to flesh, voice to voice portion of humanity?  Are we distilling the wonders of what we wonder about?  Are we forgoing the town hall meetings in favor of civics via YouTube?

I don't know the answers to these questions.  I have suspicions from my experience.  I just wonder, as times go on, and more and more of us inhabit this Earth, if we will along the way forget how to really deal with each other. 

Or, if we are just going to find comfort and commradery in computerized confidants. 

I want to tell you a story
It's about this rodent named Mack.
It's a tale about a most unfortunate creature.
And how he ended up in a really bad situation.

You see, he had this problem.
He always managed to be in the wrong place.
at the wrong time.
He got into many scraps and scrapes,
With the tough as nails, inner city rats.

There was this one day.
When he'd been in a real doozy.
He had many cuts and gashes.
And they'd become nasty and oozy.

He was walking around,
Quite delerious and disorientated.
He didn't notice that he was walking into.
The brand new local zoo.

That's right, he was a:

oozy rat in a sanitary zoo
going forward and backward without nary a clue
oozy rat in a sanitary zoo
He can't get out, what will he do. 

As he wandered around in delerium,
He happened upon a wild boar.
Some people call them wild pigs.
But rats aren't picky about nomenclature.

He noticed the boar was eating.
The dinner he was enjoying smelled wonderful
And our hero, Mack, was weak.
And within his belly, much hunger.

He rapped upon the bars
Of the boars humble home.
He asked if he might share some
Of the boars delectable dining.

The boar lifted his head from his trough.
To reveal a meal of meaty lasagna.
He turned to Mack with a stern face
And proclaimed with a roaring voice,

He told Mack to...

Go hang a salami, I'm a lasagna hog.
Scram, get lost, go jump in a bog.
Go hang a salami, I'm a lasagna hog.
Don't bother me no more, go choke on a frog. 

...to be continued...

I know call this meeting of Discordists Anonymous to order.

"I'll have a ham on rye!"

Shuddap!

Okay folks.  I admit it.  It's happened.  I swore that it never would, but it did anyway.

I have become.....ooh it sickens me thinking of it....


complacent.


Yup, I freely admit it, I have become complacent.

I've got the house, I've got the wonderful wife, the beautiful, creative, and spirited daughter.  I've got the 2-car garage, complete with two cars.  I have graduated from lower middle-class to mid middle-class.  I've got the job that gets me networking with all of the State heavies, and the sky is the limit for me career-wise.  My family is financially secure and at this point we have little to worry about. 

Help me!

I KNOW that just because I'm now happy in my little speck of the Universe that all of the bad stuff hasn't gone away.  I know The Machine_tm is still out there, constantly paving the roads with bones.  I know that the Policticians are just as crooked as they've ever been.  I know there are 20 something saps in the desert who are being expended like Red Plastic Cups.  I know the collective imagination of humanity has festered and stalled for the past few decades, if not longer.  I know all of this to be true.

But....

Damnit, I'm happy.  I also admit, sometimes I just don't give a fuck about anyone else.  Yeah, I know it's selfish.  But fuck it.  Sometimes I just don't care.

It's hard to get riled up about the human condition when your condition is minty fresh.

And this, my friends, is exactly why nothing ever gets done.  Why progress seems to be made in ant-steps.  Why molehills become Everests and McKinleys.  Who wants to bother to struggle, to care, when at the end of the day, it doesn't pertain to them.  Or at least, they don't see how it pertains to them. 

I think the problem becomes, instead of us rallying together to make one bunker, we've built a series of bunkers, complete with moats of flesh-eating acid.  We're safe as long as we stay in our little fortifications. 

The question becomes, how does this change?  Can it change without the world melting around everyone?  I think being here with all of you I still have a connection to keep me honest.  While I am happy, and I have become complacent, I still know, at the end of it all, anything can happen.  It's just hard to keep it at the front of your mind when your mind isn't in that space. 

So, there it is.  What next?

Wow, what a wonderful audience. 
It's nice to be in front of such a great group of people. 
Which reminds me I can't wait to get the hell out of here. 

So, yesterday was a pretty rough day.
I went to the hair salon to get a trim.
The lady who was cutting my hair seemed to have some personal issues.
At one point she yelled out, "I hate myself and I want to dye."
It was a pretty hairy situation.

After I left there I went to get some coffee.
I was about to go in when this bum named Joe stopped me.
He asked me for some change so I gave him a buck.
He in turn handed me a cup of urine. 
I suppose the bright side is that's the cheapest Cup of Joe you can get. 

[The preceding is one man's take. Please to be expanding and contracting on this idea. Relating to the subject matter, while we are all in this one place together, we've all come from different places. This can work to our advantage as we work this stuff out.]

Pathways and Shrapnel: An open-source study and exploration.



Birth and Death are 100% Grade A Certainties (oh yeah taxes too, or so the saying goes). The only questions seem to be around matters of when and how. We know we emerge from our Mother, in some fashion, and then return to the Earth at some undetermined place and time. But we know it WILL happen.

We burst into the world at Point A, birth. Or sometimes we have to be pulled out depending on our level of infantile stubbornness. Immediately we set foot at the beginning of a Path. It is one of many Paths that eventually lead to Point B. At Point B we may exit in a brilliant flash of flame and sound. One of our vital life-sustaining mechanisms may crap out. Or perhaps someone will bring a bloody war to our land and we die in a house to house cleansing. Of course, it also might be something as unceremonious as having a heart-attack in the middle of a massive bowel movement. But hey, shit happens right?

In any event, we have before us a series of roads to take to get to Point B. Of course, as young infants we really don't have a clear concept of Point B, so it initially doesn't really inform our Path. Well, there are natural fight or flight responses like "Feed Me." But it's really focused more around infantile narcissm than it is any actual fear of starving to death. Indeed, as kiddos we see that damn Coyote fall off the cliff a zillion times and he keeps on breathing. So the worst that might happen to us is we turn into an accordion for a few seconds. As we grow, however, we establish more control and more responsibility for our own orienteering. At every step of the way (or maybe it's every other step, I'm not entirely sure. It would be quite a feat if anyone figured it out), it seems, there is a new turn that can be taken; left, right, left-right. Which do we choose? Why do we choose? Are we even aware of it?

Along the paths there is another phenomenon that is occuring. As we are walking our Paths, and deciding where to go (whether through instince, deliberate thought process, because someone told us so), we are subjected to, and subjecting others to, Shrapnel.



Shrapnel are the bits of experience, events, ideas, and so on that are flying around as we walk the Paths. It's as though there are roadside bombs that are in a continuous state of detination. For example, we walk along the path as a young child, and at a certain point, we are subjected to Religious Shrapnel. Whether or not to follow our parents' deities? Whether or not to NOT follow deities? Whether or not to follow a deity different from our family's? Whether or not I'll burn in hell if I don't eat the cracker? As we are approaching the age of 18, we experience Shrapnel from education and career. Guidance counselors are asking you if you want to attend the college fairs. Your Dad is asking you if you are going to that ivy-league college he did. Or perhaps your Mom runs a flower shop and is expecting you to take over. After all, it is called Me and My Daughter's Blooms. But do you really want to peddle flowers the rest of your life?

There are, of course many, many other examples of Shrapnel. Also. it is important to understand that we aren't passive bystanders in all of this. We too are part of the Shrapnel creating process. When we become parents we subject our children to expectations, wishes, and wants for their lives. (If all parents' wishes for their children actually came true, we'd be living in a world comprised solely of Doctors and Lawyers. You'd never be able to get onto a golf course.) As neighbors, we may be part of a collective attitude about how people's houses and yards should look. (Oh look, Sanderson is putting out another fucking Pink Flamingo. And gosh, it looks like it is fellating the Garden Gnome! Gasp!) As members of Political Party X, we put signs in our yard saying, vote for Rudy Obama. We are throwing out just as much as others are throwing at us.

Do not be disillusioned about Shrapnel. It isn't all bad. There is the Shrapnel of Art and Creativity. Walking by a park and seeing some folks drumming and creating music. (Drum Circles aren't just for hippies anymore.) The infective beat that is travelling across the air, that mandates that you move and groove. The lady down the road who is a brilliant artist, displaying her work at the local Sidewalk Art Exhibit. There is the Shrapnel of Happy Childlike Anarchy. Your little girl acting like a goon, and you can't help but to want to play along. Experiencing the joy in improvisational imagination and going with the flow. This is the sort of Shrapnel you WANT embedded in your flesh. For it too will inform your path. And besides, when you ARE strolling on your path, wouldn't it be more enjoyable if you were doing a little jig along the way, while whistling a fun little tune? Whistle while you walk. It seemed to do the trick for the Dwarvish 7.

So what to take away from this? Well, first off, make sure you read the other observations of Shrapnel. And then, take a few minutes and think about your path. Think about where you've been, who've you encountered, what you put in your mouth (ewww, you did that?), and how've you navigated life thus far. As you think of the different experiences you've had, think of what might have happened if you hadn't had those experiences. Caution: the point isn't to think about how you could re-write your life. That part's done, no good to dwell on it. But, how can you use this perspective going forward? What kind of mental armor can you obtain to shield you from that which may blow you off course? What kind of mechanisms can you construct to welcome in those things in this world which may benefit you? Or better yet, how can you have more bearing on your bearings?

Because seriously, you know Point B is coming soon. Why not make it one hell of a ride?


The preceding is one man's take.  Please to be expanding and contracting on this idea.  Relating to the subject matter, while we are all in this one place together, we've all come from different places.  This can work to our advantage as we work this stuff out.  

So, syndemics.

Syndemics are multiple, related afflictions. 
An example:

ADHD <--> Conduct Disorder <--> Addictions <--> Domestic Violence

Four afflictions, with some common ties:  impulsivity, brain chemistry, diet (Omega 6 to Omega 3 consumption ratio), accidental attention to negative behavior, media, etc.

There are 5 Syndemic structures:

1.  Caused by the same biological agent (ex. rise in Omega-6 consumption causes bipolar, depression, asthma, diabetes, learning disabilities & violence)
2.  Share risk or protective behaviors  (ex. TV in children's bedrooms linked to increased obesity, diabetes, ADHD, mood disorders, etc.)
3.  Respond to similar environmental conditions (ex. Lack of cooperative play at home and recess is increasing bullying, aggression, obesity, ADHD, mood disorders and overall health)
4.  Have reciprocal or interdependent effects (ex. Low omega-3 consumption increases cravings for alcohol and drugs.  High consumption of alcohol and drugs reduce omega-3, which increase mood disorders and suicidal thoughts.)
5.  Are managed by the same, similar, or reciprocal organizations (ex. Schools, Health Care, and Juvenile Courts)

So what's the point of all this?  The point is that in my field there are these concepts called "kernels" that have been developed that when implemented can affect multiple related afflictions, or the syndemics.  An example is the Good Behaviour Game I talked about in the Intellectual Intoxication thread in Apple Talk.  This is called a Reinforcement Kernel, because it is reinforcing good behaviour.  Studies have shown that this tactic has a resulting impact on ADHD, Tobacco use, Prenatal Drug Exposure, Addictions, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Mood Disorders, Violence Exposure and some others.  The idea that it is addressing the ties between the afflictions. 

So why do I even bring this up?  I see this kind of idea being applicable to some of the ideas we've discussed in BIP.  I think it is clear for any kind of change in our society(ies) we have to impact a system.  I think we can identify some multiple related afflictions, or syndemics.  the question then becomes, what kind of "kernels" could address them? 

In reality, we here are limited in what we can do, however, I think there still be some merit to contemplating this and exploring some of our own syndemics.  Anyhoo, I wanted to get this up before the weekend.  I'm going to think about this myself and hope to offer some more ideas on Monday.  If you want to read more about this stuff check out this site at the CDC:  http://www.cdc.gov/syndemics/overview.htm

Interesting stuff. 

Have you ever noticed how young kids from generation to generation are raised with the same stories and songs?  Grimm's Fairy Tales, Mother Goose, Rock a-bye Baby, Old MacDonald, The Three Little Pigs, etc., etc. 

Yet, songs and stories change for older children and young adults.  This generation kids are reading Harry Potter, in an earlier generation they read Nancy Drew, before that the Oz books.  A few decades ago young girls were deliriously screaming at Lennon/Mcartney, then it was David Cassidy, now it's Justin Timerlake and um, somebody else. 

I think it's interesting how from generation to generation kids are started with similar messages and inputs but they differ as they enter teenhood and so on. 

I don't know if this really means anything, but, it seemed like it might be a good discussion topic. 

...And so once again it is graduation season.  This year it hits a little closer to home for me then it has in the past.  That's because my youngest bro is leaving the esteemed halls of the same High School I graduated from.  And so it has me thinking, what can I tell him before he heads off to college.  What little nugget of advice can I bestow upon him that will be of some use to him? 

So I've pondered and I think this is what I've come up with.

Find yourself.  And do it, yourself. 

The period of time between age 18 and age 25 is an awfully awkward time.  You're too young to be a "real" adult and you are too old to be a kid.  You are expected to be irresponsible and daft.  But, yet, at the sametime, you are expected to move your life forward.  To be what it was you were meant to be.  Whatever that is.

Of course, the thing is, there are so many during this time who will subtely, or not so subtley, tell you exactly who you should be.  It might start with the parents.  Telling you to go to college, get straight A's, buckle down, and become a successful Doctor, Lawyer, Marine Bioligist, whatever and make lots of money.  If you don't stay on the "straight and narrow", and they will clearly define this for you, then you will be doomed to miserable failure.  And of course you have many elements of society reinforcing this.  When was the last time you heard of an Accounts Payable employee being portrayed as a sexy beast getting all the chicks/guys and living the high life. 

Then you've got another element which is the college campus itself.  There are models of how you are supposed to act and supposed to do if you want to be part of the community.  If you don't want to be ostracized as one of the freak fringe.  To have a fun college existence, there are certain components that must be in place.  You've gotta go to all of THE parties.  If you haven't ingested or inhaled at least three different kinds of chemicals in your first year you are a miserable failure of a college student.  There are other pressures as well from fellow college students, the opposite gender, college faculty and administration, all wanting to guide you their way through the 4 years or so that you are going to be there.

But really, this is the chance for you to find who you are.  It's a chance when you have so many resources at your disposal to enrich yourself and to refine what it is that YOU want to get out of this existence on this hunk of space rock.  I think one key is to hold on to yourself as much as possible while still exhibiting the personal freedom to explore the unknowns.  To not put on blinders and hide yourself away from everyone else, but to stock up on the arms of recognition and clarity.  To know what is best for you vs. what is thought to be best for you.

And the thing is, it doesn't stop when you leave college.  There will always be those who think they need to guide and corrall people.  To lead them on the right path or the righteous path or the gold-plated American Dream path.  So, it's in this crucible of young adulthood that it becomes so important to get a hold of, you.  To maintain that inventory of integrity that is only accessible to you. 

Because if you leave the next step in education with someone else's vision other than your own, you WILL get lost. 

Well, that,Äôs just the way it is son. 

How many times have you heard this bullshit?  One of the ultimate copouts when it comes to , well, just about everything.  It is especially true when you suggest something should change, or be different.  Especially when it is something mankind is used to doing for the past few decades or so, if not longer.  What kind of base, lack of imagination is that?

This is why the status quo enjoys, well, great status.  It endures.  It persists.  It INsists. It REsists. And we fold and bend, all too quickly, to its powerful stank of stagnation.  Because it is easier to just keep on letting it slide, than to actually dig in and try to push it in a new direction. 

This is especially true when it comes to the media.  Let,Äôs face it, the media has penetrated deep into our everyday lives.  It has rooted itself into our cultures.  Before the age of television it was print and radio.  Then man,Äôs ingenuity reared the great collection of tubes and wires that became the television set.  The bright and shiny hypnotized us and we,Äôve never broken free of its grip.  Oh, and now it,Äôs in color.  Of course, now we are in the golden shower, er I mean era, of the Internet.  And it isn,Äôt just for computers anymore.  You can have it in your pocked, on your watch, it,Äôs even in goddamned sunglasses.  So, the media can reach us just about anywhere now. 

And so it has transpired that many of our species have given over their thinking capacity to the media.  We let them tell us what to think, what to buy, how to raise our children, how to make a meal, what we should say and what we shouldn,Äôt say, and how to become infamous.  It has become one of those clich?© vicious circles.  As the media has shaped us and coddled us, it has learned about us.  It has tapped into our base human elements and milked them for all it is worth.  And, it has learned, our undying allegiance to the status quo.   

This was perfectly demonstrated over the past week in Virginia.  As soon as the shots ceased, our media, our civilization turned it into the next reality TeeVee show.  But, that,Äôs because having our noses in someone else,Äôs drama, someone else,Äôs trauma, is part of our status quo.  But, now with the long reach of the media, it is everywhere.  Our thirst to be so plugged into the world supersedes any notion of compassion and respect for the dead and the grieving.  And the media know this. 

So, it happened that the greasy-headed dweeb who mowed down these college students sent a multi-media ,Äúpress-kit,Äù or ,Äúmanifesto,Äù to the Peacock Network.  To further taunt his victims from the grave.  He said as much in his materials.  And so this package arrives.  After the president of the news division jacks-off in utter glee, and a token consultation with the authorities, it is rushed to air.  And thus, the knife is turned counterclockwise in the backs the grieving.  But, it is okay.  It is fine, really.  Because this is ,Äúwhat the people want.,Äù  They are only delivering what their audiences thirst for.  And so the Pea-cock suckers gladly went along with it, completing Cho,Äôs mission for him. 

Alas, it is unfortunately true about our society.  There are many who eat it up.  Whilst many more shrug their shoulders and say ,ÄúEh, that,Äôs the way it is.,Äù  Well, I say fuck that!  I,Äôm fucking out.  Go ahead, continue to feed this shit through apathy and ennui.  Go ahead and just let The Machine continue to drive you along the path of status quo.  Just remember, one day, this all may be so far gone, that there will be NO coming back ever.  That is, assuming we haven,Äôt already passed that exit.  I,Äôm sick of it myself, and so I,Äôm jumping the fuck off.  Enjoy the slide. 

Okay, so, another of my hairbrained schemes is to write a children's book.  I have an excellent resource in my brother who is a crazy good artist.  I'd like to somehow do it from a BIP angle, but not in an overt fashion.  What I need is a central meme or theme that will appeal to children without hitting them over the head, (and keep parents from buying the thing)  Any ideas are welcome. 

Because I can't help myself, and because I don't wish to cause any more consternation.  I will post all puns here with a link to the appropriate thread. 

To begin:

There are Quakers lobbying for peace in Boston Common! Quick! It's awesome!

The pun:  Shaking it up in Beantown. 

http://www.principiadiscordia.com/forum/index.php?topic=12169.0

So, I'm here thinking. 

We've got some people out there wandering.  Aimless and hapless.

But, not all are without hope, and so some of us aim to reach them and maybe give them a little light.  (black light?)

So, they download a pamphlet, they look over the meme-u, they stream some POEEcasts.  And so, they start to open up to some of the possibilities and philosophies we lay out. 

But, then what. 

To me there are at least two steps in the process, maybe three. 

Step 1.  Open the door
Step 2.  Walk through the door
Step 3.  Keep on walking.

So it seems like what we do here is a lot of step 1, maybe some of step 2. 
What can the person do for themselves besides read our prop?
Is there, are there, activities/excercises that could help them expand their vision and to get them to continue with step 2 and step 3?

In other words,
"Okay, I've read your stuff.  Makes sense, I dig it.  So, now what do I do?"

So, I spent the better part of the morning in the county jail talking to young inmates about substance abuse issues.  When you talk about substance abuse you invariably talk about family, school, life in general.  Because, it is clear this is where it all begins.

Here's a case where the BIP becomes a two-fold literal prison for folks.  Being raised in an alcohol/drug ridden home.  A mom and pop who don't give two shits about what their kids are doing or who they're doing it with.  Just as long as they don't get dragged into it.  (read, they don't have to bail them out of jail)

The funny thing, they end up in the literal jail.  Some want to get help.  Some want to change their bars. 

But then, society and The State puts them on a waiting list. 
It's clear there is much that needs to be changed for many. 

Okay everybody, do you really, really want to have an impact on the future of this hunk o rock?  I mean, of course, besides taking up bandwidth on an internet forum?  Well, this may sound very psa-cheezy but here it is, mentor a child.  Seriously.

We asshats here at pd.com have come to the conclusions that part of why everything is so fucked up is because people have forgotten how to think for themselves, or how to be themselves.  Fuck, many never learned in the first place.  And the scary part is, these vapid, empty kids are growing up and having kids.  And they are only teaching them what they know.  So, you can see how this train can get away pretty quickily. 

Children are growing up in our schools in a way that leaves a lot of them hollow.  Sure, they go through the paces.  They do their arithmatics, they write their book reports on Poe and Shakespeare, they make the obligatory baking soda volcano for the science fair, but they do all of this because they have to.  Meanwhile, the void within many of them grows.  Perhaps they are having a hard time connecting with other kids.  They can't find the right clique to join.  Maybe their school has cut our music and drama and the only extracurricular activities involve athletics.  All of this can lead to isolation.  This isolation then can beget more emptiness and a loss of identity.  And so, in acts of desperation, to belong, these kids are looking for something, anything that will fill in the holes.

This is where drugs come in.  This is where girls are having their second child at 14.  This is where tomorrow becomes more tenuous. 

And our society continues to feed this.  We make little or no effort to reach these kids.  To find ways to make them feel whole.  We don't go to the School Board meetings and scream and hollar at them for cutting out their arts programs.  We don't encourage our school systems to develop activities to reinforce self-esteem.  To maintain the integrity of the individual.  To learn how to want to always learn and grow.  To see school as more than just the thing you do before you go to college which is the thing you do before you get the Accounts Payable job at the big Insurance or credit card company.  To understand, the more they lose themself during these formative years, the less of a chance they have at finding and realizing their dream, instead of chasing the white-picket illusion concocted by the naivety of our governments. 

Because, here is the reality folks.  Once we lose them in school, we have lost them.  Habits die hard.  It is very, very difficult to tear down a false self-image at 25.  And it's even tougher to rebuild a new one that will sustain itself into the future.  Our children put a lot of stock into what we tell them and teach them as they grow up.  They count on us to set the standard for them to follow and to consider as they make their way through the years.  We can't continue to allow them to partake in the shadow dance.  Apathy will beget more apathy will beget more apathy.  And those are the ones who don't die in a pool of their own vomit. 

Serious question.

Can a Discordian become an elected official/public servant in the current political climate and still be considered a Discordian?

Does it make sense, can it make sense?

Obviously one wouldn't come out and say, "Hey, I'm a Discordian!  Vote for me!", I'm talking about the "think for yourself schmuck" values and such.  Because, there will be the temptation to "play the game" in order to win.  In fact, it is probably necessary. 

I ask these questions out of a two-fold curiousity.
#1  Well, it's a region of curiousity.
#2  I am seriously thinking about giving it a go in the near future.  (as long as the wife goes along with it.)

Thoughts? 

also known as From the Depths vol.5 #2
should be up at POEE soon too.

Click and Play

edit:  should work now.

The latest from the "Illegitimate Son of Convention" project:

An audio version of my rant RWHN: From the Depths vol. 5 #2 (The Spark)

Click and enjoy.

Because my friends, that is exactly what is happening.  It is nauseating to see displayed daily what tops the agenda for the majority.  For the past few weeks the Evening News has started with Iraq and ended with the Anna Nicole Cadaver sweepstakes along with the daily ,ÄúWhat past-it-pop-princess is wigging out now?,Äù report.

It,Äôs enough to make you just want to kill your TV with an RPG.  And then deliver a package of C4 to your local affiliates, just so they,Äôll stop broadcasting the shit.  Of course, I know what you are saying, just turn it off.  Well, no shit Sherlock.  That,Äôs not the point.

The TV might as well be a fucking mirror for ourselves.  It is only showing us what we are.  It is constantly reminding us of the shortcomings and how many of them are walking this hunk of rock.  When did the lives of so many become so empty that they have to fill it with the fallout from others lives?  Why are so many so vapid that they must live vicariously through others?  To me, it,Äôs not even funny.  I know how much mediocrity exists in this mortality.  I am constantly doing my best to keep it out of my sight and out of my home.  Why can,Äôt we just kill celebrity and infamy and let it fester in obscurity?

There are too many walking voids without imagination in this world.  It,Äôs all autopilot scavenging.  Devouring whatever is most easily available to satiate the hunger for something.  Escaping from one horrible existence to another,Äôs.  Wanting, so badly, to get out of one,Äôs skin, even if it means slipping into the decay of someone else,Äôs.  Not a thought to foraging for their own freedom.  Not a though to seeking out something that can bring them personal fulfillment, created from their own will and mind.  Not a single consideration to escaping the crass current for the jet stream of self-worth.

I don,Äôt know the answer.  I don,Äôt know that anyone knows the answer.  I don,Äôt know that there even IS an answer.  All I know is there are days I seriously just want to get as far away from all of this as I can.  I imagine there has to be some prime real estate in Greenland. 

I think maybe it is a time for a concrete, structured plan for what we want to do this year with the BIP stuff.  I think we should come up with a short list of projects, come to some sort of agreement on which ones to pursue, and then plan it out, make assignments, etc.  Whether it is reworking the BIP pamphlet, coming up with another one, producing a compilation of POEEcasts, whatever.  But I think we need a real, spelled out plan, and then do our best to stick to it.

So, I would propose in this thread we try to hash out what we want to do and then figure out who is going to do what and then maybe sticky the plan either here or in the depository for reference. 

Discuss. 

I have a question, and I don't know if this is useful or not.

We've gone in all kinds of directions here at the BIP forum.
We've talked about lots of project ideas (audio, visual, etc.)
We've discussed different ideas within BIP/GSP.

Here's what I want to know, what kind of BIPer are you?
It is clear we all have different talents and areas of knowledge/experience.
Perhaps it is useful to "define" where we are coming from in regards to BIP.

For example, this is me:
I think when I think of the BIP I tend to focus more literally and presently on the "think for yourself schmuck" idea, especially with regards to a person's development.  My piece about "The American Dream" in the BIP pamphlet is an example of that.  I think about paths we are steered down and paths we willingly and unwillingly ignore.  Meanwhile, I have to admit I get a bit lost with the occult stuff because it's not something I've really been exposed to that often.  Not to say it isn't interesting but that I don't have much to offer.

The point of this is that it might be nice to have a sort of roster with our strengths and weaknesses with the BIP ideas and philosophies.  Especially considering any productivity, that way people can focus on what they are good at.  Again, I don't know if it's helpful or not but just an idea that I think could enhance our productivity. 

In another thread the topic of Depression came up, and I think it warrants a further exploration in the context of BIP.

Mostly because I've heard the comments about the pamphlet.  That we have painted a bleak "black" picture.  "What's the point if you can never escape?"

This, on the surface, can sound like an avenue to depression. 
Someone who didn't think about it, who didn't explore it further, and within, may be tempted to give up. 

We see The Machine(tm) et al and soldier on, wanting to at least survive as ourselves if we obtain no other goal.  Others, may relent, retreat within themselves and go all Cask of Amontilado and brick themselves up.  What separates us? 

Of course the disclaimer should be put out that we all have moments of depression, so I'm talking about long-term. 

Press Release:

Stoned Platypus Records announces the launch of their newest, and well only, project, the illegitimate son of convention. the illegitimate son of convention is an exploration of soundscapes. there is a vast frontier to explore when it comes to melding sounds and rhythms together into songs. the illegitimate son of convention is all about exploring the paths that are less travelled. sometimes they lead to a great clearing, sometimes to a great forest, sometimes to a swamp of sludge. no matter, the destination is not the goal, it is the journey. please join me on this journey.

The first release from the TISC project is "The Nose Flute Experiment". Here, our pal Reverend What's-His-Name? does what seldom other have done (because they know better) and composed a ditty featuring the completely unversatile insturment that is the Nose Flute. But, because the Rev was afraid people would be completely overcome by the mediocrity of the instrument, he threw a whole arsenal of audio effects at it so, thankfully, you'd forget what instrument you were listening to. Follow the link below to the TISC site and enjoy.(you were warned)

http://rwhn.multiply.com/music/item/1

The Black Iron Prison is an idea that I have come across on a website that touts the Principia Discordia and the Illuminatus trilogy books.

The idea as it was explained to me is that in life you are trapped in a prison cell, it is dark and it is inescapable but you cannot see the walls that surround you. As an unwilling convict of this invisible penitentiary, you are in a position of pain and suffering and you have no way to break free until someone points out and makes you understand that you are in a prison.

Once you understand that you are being held against your will, you may start to break down the bars of your jail window, it is a revalation, and a means of evading capture. however, your initial rapture of becoming a free man is short lived, as you will find that there is a cell outside of the cell in which you had been incarserated. While the walls of the first prison are now crumbled, there is another larger wall encasing the captive and another set of bars holding back the freedom which is sought.

What I have found is that this analogy is a an unenlightened one, for it tells of failure to achieve enlightenment, and you had better not try again. It touts freedom but does not deliver. It is no truth bringer or real enlightenment, and is instead a masturbatory thought process that leads in a circle, and this ends in conformity, and bondage.

Breaking down walls is a good thing, but to find that behind every wall is another, is an idea that breads contempt, inadeqacy, and selfish behaviour, it is an idea that is a trick.

I have broken free of the BIP and I find that it is actually a lonely place, it is not populated with individuals, but it does not have any further walls and is not devoid of life. It is a free place that is to be explored and learnt from.

The hope for the future lies in our past.  I believe this to be true. 

But, not as a collective.  Not as a society, or as a country, or as a race.  The hope is in our individual past.  It is in, The Spark. 

It's that moment, or series of moments that we've all had.  Perhaps for some it has long been buried by years of apathy and the leavings of a crumbling self.  Perhaps for some it was squelched by an overbearing parent or militant grade-school teacher.  Regardless, I believe we all have had it. 

What is The Spark?  It's when you discovered you could be Ian Paice using the pots and pans in your mother,Äôs kitchen.  It,Äôs when you figured out how to turn a piece of paper into a soaring jet plane.  It's when you strummed your first E5 with the gain turned up to 10.  It's when you blew out your gut onto a piece of lined paper.  It was when you help hope and promise, not for the world, but for YOU.

Youthful exuberance.  Vim and vigor.  As you think about it now you are probably remembering back to fond times of yesteryear.  That's good.  Because when you become reacquainted with that feeling, you need to drag it back with you.  Reinstall it into your psyche, your personality, your YOU. 

It's hard to think that The Spark was what landed the Accounts Payable position for the financial institution.  It's hard to conceive that it was The Spark that lead to the junkie with the needle in his arm.  It's unimaginable that it was The Spark that has us deep into a conflict in the desert that is seemingly endless.  No, it would seem in these cases, and many, many more, that The Spark was relegated to the back seat while The Retreat was riding shotgun. 

The Retreat is where we went, and where we still go, when we don't want to cause trouble.  It is where we, well, retreat to when we don't wish to take on the challenge of choice.  When we fear the choice of becoming a professional Clown, egged on by The Spark, we then decide to pursue the safety of becoming an insurance salesmen presented at the job-fair hosted at The Retreat.  We've learned from others that The Retreat is safe and will allow us to live a life of comfort and a resulting joy.  The edges are all smoothed to keep us from harming ourselves. 

The Spark is rough and ragged.  It is possible that it can hurl us off a cliff into a crevice of danger, yet it also can propel us to the pastures of potential.  We could go all in, sell our stuff, hop on a bike with just a guitar and some gusto and maybe make it as a well-known musician.  In the effort, we may have to wait tables to put food on our own table.  We may have to forgo owning IPODS and cellphones while forging ahead.  But, the potential rewards for the soul, I would argue, are much richer than those who languish in the lap of luxury. 

It would seem that far too many have forgotten their Spark while living in their Retreat.  Many are unconscionably ignorant to the lack of fire burning within, while simultaneously feeling the chill coming, unheeded, through the windows of their Retreat.  And so, that's where we find things.  Those in the cold far outnumbering those still yearning and burning for what tomorrow will hold.  But, it is not lost.  We simply need to form the search parties to explore and excavate that which was left in the dead days' dust.  Meanwhile, for those who have managed to maintain their fire, we need to keep stoking it and assuring that it is never quashed.  It is this hope from our past that is going to give us the promise for the future...

We spend a lot of time here in the BIP section analyzing, dissecting, constructing, deconstructing, etc., etc.

Here's where we can share.

I've often thought about, and have written about, how society tends to teach and guide us along to achieve The Dream, The American Dream if you live in the states.  The perfect scenario where you have the house, the family, the job with the promotion, the cars, the house in Florida to retire to, etc., etc.

Now, I would assume that a majority of us, if not all of us, have "dreams" that are quite unlike the fairy tale ones contrived by "those-in-the-know". 

What is your dream? 

I'll admit I share a couple of The American Dream ideals.  Namely, the house and the family, but on a very basic level.  Where I would differ is in how I raise my children.  I want to raise my children, not to be mindless, financially successful patriots.  Instead, I would hope to be able to raise them in a way where they can guard their creativity, their imagination, their zeal for exploration, and the ability to visualize their own conceptions of their dreams. 

I hope to be able to always exchange ideas, philosophies, and more with people willing to entertain "silly" notions and "psychotic" possibilities. 

I hope to be able to, with my family, survive any turmoils that are in our future.  As the world becomes increasingly hostile with each other, and as the Earth, seemingly, becomes more hostile with its inhabitants.  To continue to be armed with ourselves and each other.  To be able to exist as ourselves, as much as possible living within the confines of our Prison and The Machine. 

And to know, at the end, if afforded the luxury and time of hindsight, that I gave it my best shot. 

,Äú,Ķand behind the disguise, of a Man With a Cause, there,Äôs a child screaming with nothing left to say,Äù ,Äì Jim Matheos

It,Äôs 5:30 A.M.  The alarm goes off.  You rub the sleep from your eyes.  You take in a breath, you exhale, and so it continues,Ķ.

Do you remember when it was that you got stuck here?  Yeah, stuck.  Oh sure, you,Äôre pulling in 50k a year.  Your 401k is pretty healthy.  You finally got that nice corner cubicle with the window overlooking your concrete jungle.  Oh, and your company just recently rewarded you for your 15 years of service with a nice Swiss Army pocket knife.  They really do care about you.

But, my friend, when was it that you stopped caring about yourself?  Can you remember how you were in grade school?  Do you remember when you played with absolute, unbridled, unrestricted glee and joy?  Do you remember when you imagined yourself blasting off on a rocket ship heading for Mars?  Do you remember pretending to be Ian Paice as you kept the beat on your Mom,Äôs pots and pans?  Do you remember your dreams? 

Now, here is the next question.  When you did that one assignment in grade school, you know the one where you write about what you want to be when you grow up.  Tell me, did you write about working in Accounts Receivable?

Now, I know what you are thinking.  ,ÄúNot everyone can be an astronaut!  Someone has got to do this job.,Äù  That, my friend, is not the point.  The point is, nay, the question is, why did you exchange your soul for this job?  Why did you check your imagination and child-like desire for wonderment at the door?  When did you lose your desire to, well, desire.  The desire to seek new knowledge, adventure, new experiences.  When did you put your life on automatic pilot and cruise control?

I know, I know, you don,Äôt want to make any waves.  You need to be ,Äúupright,Äù and ,Äúnormal,Äù and ,Äúgrown up.,Äù  You need to keep at it so you can retire with that healthy nest egg so you can sit on the stoop, in your rocking chair, and comfortably reflect.

But, that,Äôs just it.  When you retire, and you look back on it all, will you be satisfied?  Will you be content?  Will you see time well spent?  Or, will you start to wonder, when did I lose it?  When did I let my spirit wither and die?  And is it worth this, this crushing ennui and apathy?

The good news, is you are still alive.  You are reading this and you still have a chance.  The fact that you are even thinking about what is being said here suggests there is something still inside.  Your inner child is still there, waiting for you to take it out of ,Äútime-out.,Äù  Here is your chance to reacquaint yourself with your imagination.  Here is your chance to step outside of the boundaries you,Äôve set-up for how you live your life.  Allow yourself to do those things that might make people look.  Allow yourself to express those things that might make people wonder about you.  Allow yourself to be uninhibited by the pressure to ,Äúbe proper.,Äù

This world is dull enough with all of the plastic pap that the people around you produce.  Don,Äôt be one of them.   ,ÄúStick apart,Äù from the pack.  Allow yourself to walk the paths others say are dangerous and unpredictable.  Most importantly, allow yourself to be yourself. 

Because, if you can get to the end of all this, look back, and see that you were true to you, then you will truly have a remarkable and commendable accomplishment

Okay, this Christmas has convinced me that a significant sector of our Society hates children.

We tout this holiday as one for the children.  Is it really?

I say, hell no!  It's about us.

It's about US getting the "right" gift.  The gift, so we feel good about OURselves.
We stack up the gifts to the ceiling.  It is encouraged.  If not you = bad parent.
Then, WE dress em up in the stiffest, most uncomfortable monkey suit we can possibly find, plop them on the lap of some strange old man with a smelly white beard, so we can get the PERFECT picture to mount above the mantle over their stockings.  Because, after all, it must be Picture Perfect. 

Here you have a day when Mommy and Daddy both have the day off (if their lucky) and get to be together as a family.  And yet, we royally fuck it up by putting huge amounts of stress on everyone involved.  Things have to be just so. 

It's all commercial bullshit and it gets reinforced year after year.  And if YOU don't want to be a part of it, another part of your family will want to hold true to "tradition."  And so you are torn between making the old people happy before they die or allowing the children to actually enjoy the rare day off with the whole family together. 

So, yes, I believe this Holy Daze Season is yet another example of how much certain parts of our Society could care less about chldren and see them solely as a tool for self-gratfication. 

I think next year we are just going to buy some Chinese food and turn off the fucking lights!

Go!

edit:  I have to think about it first thus why I haven't contributed anything yet....

p.s. -- this is LHX's doing.   

It's that time of year again.

Yup, time to recap the who, what, and why of this last trip around the Sun.
The Good, The Bad, and The Usual.  

Time to plan for the next go around.
People will make the usual promises.  Some they'll say out loud.  Others that they'll keep to themselves.  

You know the usual suspects.  Lose weight, save more money, spend less money, be nicer, be angrier, be smarter, be a better parent, husband, wife, grandmother, senator, soldier, priest, policeman, newspaper boy, pizza dough jockey, whatever.

For the love of Mike give it up!  Nothing causes more tribulation than to listen to someone with so little willpower spit out some mantra on how they are going to "turn their life around"  You really want to lose weight?  Clear off the coatrack/stairstepper and use it.  You really want your kids to stop cowering everytime you walk into the room?  Keep the belt on your pants and talk to them.  You want your wife to stop laughing at you?  Stop playing with the D&D figurines and try taking her out on a date once in awhile.  

But really, why are you waiting for the day when you are going to wake up with a hangover and a headache and Mrs. Henderson from down the road?  You think you are really going to be up for creating "The New You?"  Yeah, you're going to hit the snooze button, just like everyone else, and you'll try again in 2008.  

You aren't fooling anyone.  Maybe it makes you feel better.  The rationalization of your procrastination.  But the truth is the key to your salvation from your mediocrity doesn't only appear once a year.  It is always there with you.  

And this day can be just as good as any...  

Save Time!
Save Money!
Save Hair!
Save Face!
Save!  Save!  Save!

It seems, sometimes, that the name of the game is to "save."  To horde.  To keep from giving up too much.  It's funny how capitalism, and other systems, have turned that into people giving up so much.

Think about it?  Are you really saving 20% on that pair of jeans when you had no intention of buying them in the first place?  And how is saving that 5 bucks, really going to help you down the road?  Especially when you just turn around and plunk it down for a mucha-mocha latte.  Is this how you are saving for your retirement?  Pocket change?

Then you have time.  It seems that many things that are developed, advanced, or invented are aimed as saving us time.  Streamlining processes, making more efficient machines, machines that can operate themselves.  Easy buttons.  Of course, while it saves time, and money, for some, it gives more time and worries to the poor sap who used to do the job with his hands. 

Meanwhile, society has an ever growing addiction to all that is cyber and techie.  Wifi/gps/pushbuttontalk/cellphone/computers.  Where some of this may have been developed to make business more efficient, it has had the effect of taking time as well.  When 15 years ago you could go out and have dinner and talk with those who accompanied you.  Now it's "Oh I've gotta take this, I'll be right back...."  and then the check comes.  Many become enslaved by the tech.  Meanwhile, time with friends and family is lost.  The boundary between being at-work and at-home ever blurry.

It seems society is obsessed with saving.  For the sake of saving.  To fill some need.  To think they are beating a system by not giving up more time, money, whatever than it wants to.  It never occurs to someone, if they spent less time trying to save, they'd have more time to spend. 

Besides, too much is always better, than not enough. 

WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE THINKING???

Have you ever had abortion protestors in your neighborhood?  I,Äôm not talking about the nice old lady who goes to the church down the street who tries to give good intentioned advice.  I,Äôm talking about the clan that travels city to city, town to town.  They line the major highways and streets, shouting their slogans.  And, of course, there are the visuals.

The grotesque pictures of aborted fetuses. 

They hope to shame and shock those who have gone through the procedure.  To show them the bloody error of their ways.  To show how they desecrated life.  All the while not showing the least bit of reservation about displaying it for those who do not need to see it.

There are those who have gone through trauma.  They are in a situation where bringing a life into the world just isn,Äôt a good idea.  They know they would be inadequate parents.  They know they could not feed the child.  Or, other reasons.  Then, you have another set of people.  The ones, who, involuntary, lost a developing life very early in the process.  The ones, who went through the gut-wrenching, soul-crushing episode that is miscarriage. 

But, the cold and unfeeling medical industry will label it as, ,Äúan abortion,Äù because it happened before 12 weeks.  Yeah, it,Äôs just a billing term, the Doc says.  But, in society, it is a stigma.  Meanwhile, the cold, unfeeling protestors display their images.  Unknowing and/or uncaring that they are re-traumatizing women who, not of their choice, had a pregnancy end very pre-maturely.  They did not have a choice.  They wished for this life force to come to fruition, while nature had other plans.  Yet, they are subjected to the cruel, ignorant indifference of religious zealots. 

But, religious zealotry is like the War on Terror.  Collateral Damage be Damned.  All I know is that if they decide to come to my town, they best not darken my doorstep.  Because I will not think twice,Ķ

I was thinking about this during my commute to work this morning.

Assuming one of our aims with BIP, etc. is to open minds, how do you deal with a defensive personality?  Or do you?

I'm just thinking you can start an honest and civil discussion with someone about BIP/Discordian ideas, etc.  In general sort of terms of course.

Then, if you are dealing with someone who tends to be quite defensive, you get to that point where something snaps in their head:  "Wait, are you preaching to me?"  or "Are you trying to convert me?" or something along those lines.

Is there a way to diffuse this? 

Thoughts?

Okay, I will be the campagne bottle for this sub-forum.

I want to discuss the topic of family.  I brought this up in LHX's excellent post in 'Or Kill Me' and I think it's a topic worth discussing in the context of BIP, et al. 

How do you reconcile family and BIP. 

I'll use myself as an example.

I grew up in a fairly conservative Baptist family.  The rest of my kin are all pretty religious and devout.  Additionally, we all grew up in a fairly isolated part of the world.  It really is a "Cleaver" mentality up there. Or, at least it was.

And now, I'm raising a family of my own.  I love this new family and I very much love my parents and the family up north.  And I feel, I could never, ever, share with them my thoughts and feelings and ideology as I've expressed them here.  I think the ideas we've bantered about here and in other parts would absolutely scare them.  Not so much the ideas themselves, but that I have those ideas and think about them, with others.  I really think my family would view this as some weirdo cult like Jonestown. 

So, is it a matter of going it alone in a sense?  Trying to advance change, in a minimalist way, but leaving my family out of it?  Do I risk freaking them out by trying to get them hip to what is "really" going on?  Does anyone else struggle with this?

Do you know what one of the biggest problems around this rock is?  It,Äôs Focus.  I swear, I think the majority of the human race is borderline ADHD and if not then they are chronically gullible.  A couple of examples stick out in my mind.

Example #1:  The Democratic Mid-Term Election Victory

Okay, here,Äôs the thing.  The media don,Äôt really think this is going to change anything in the government, much less your own individual life.  It,Äôs a good news story when the never-ending bone and flesh pile in Iraq is becoming pass?©.  And every once in awhile they try to trot out the Israel vs. Palestine story line but most Americans anyway can,Äôt follow that.  So, the media figure this will make decent enough headlines for the next couple of months.

But let,Äôs get to the brass tax, yup soon there will be one.  The reality is that what largely separates the Democrats and the Republicans is what Christmas Party they go to.  Sure, you have your Ted Kennedys and Howard Deans for the Dems and then you have your Trent Lotts and Lindsey Grahams for the Republicans but the bulk of them aren,Äôt really that dissimilar.  They are largely only for or against whatever it is they think will keep them their jobs. 

But, I digress.  The point here is that so many people are so willing to eat this stuff up.  To swallow the hook and like it.  To savor the shiny, pointy barb as it perforates the esophagus.  Because, they believe it to be truth.  To think otherwise would be un-American or, just plain kooky.  No one wants to appear to be a kook.  Those people are the ones to not be trusted. 

Example #2:  ,ÄúLet,Äôs go live to Bob with the weather who is standing in the town square next to the Chris- er I mean Holiday Tree.,Äù

Let,Äôs be perfectly clear, I am no soldier for the Christian Conservative Cause, but I have to ask the liberals, why are you wasting so much time on a stupid Christmas Tree??? Does it really offend someone to call it a Christmas Tree, and if so why the hell should we care?  Are we going to start to calling the ,ÄúStar of David,Äù the Holiday 6-Pointed Shape Thingy?  Or how about, the ,ÄúHoliday Candle Holder?,Äù

Really, it doesn,Äôt even make any sense to argue over it because it is what it is.  It,Äôs a Christmas tree.  Really folks, stop worrying about whether or not to say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays.  Worry more about whether or not your Christmas Tree is going to be glowing next year without lights.  Worry more about whether or not you are going to be able to board a plane without having a TSA-agent giving you a colonoscopy.  Worry about whether or not you are going to having ocean-side property in Vermont.  Focus people, Focus!!!

I dunno about the rest of you but I get tired of waking up every morning amongst these short-sided gullible bliss-ninnies!!!  I walk down the street, I walk in the grocery store, I look and think, ,ÄúMan, I,Äôm one of them?,Äù  I wonder if penquins go through this.  Some days it is just too much.  I dunno, if I were St. Peter, working for God,Äôs SuperMart I,Äôd be making the following page: 

,ÄúClean-up on aisle 3!,Äù

Well, once again it is the beginning of another Holy Daze Season.  It is time to stuff your face with your flightless fowl of choice, watch the Detroit Lions get royally pwned again, drink copius volumes of alcohol to make it much easier to put up with Uncle Louie, and of course, to give thanks. 

Thank you, Bush Administration for providing us the constantly delivering comedy of errors known as ,ÄúThe War on Terror.,Äù 

Thank you, Democrats, for trying to make us feel better now that ,Äúthe other,Äù teams is coming into office.  We know everything will be fine now. 

Thank you Big Oil, for dangling us the carrot of low Gas Prices right before the election.  Of course, both the Dems and the Republicans are your butt-buddies so it,Äôs safe to start jacking them back up again. 

Thank you Fox for delivering the Holiday Season programming gem that is the O.J. ,Äúconfession,Äù special.  Nothing washes down the cranberry sauce better than a Hollywood double-homicide. 

Thank you, vast American Tee-Vee viewing public for making the above possible. 

Thank you, Michael Richards for showing us your true comedy prowess.  The Kramer the Klansman Show is just priceless. 

Thank you, Chevrolet for making the truly superb American vehicle known as the Blazer.  With reliable products like these, you are sure to win back your market share from the Japanese. 

Thank you, Wal-Mart for hording all of the truly remarkable specimens of human-kind all in one retail location.  And, thank you for making your retail location the only place where I can buy stuff so I can mingle with the marvelous multitudes of mankind. 

And finally, to my fellow hairless-primates, I say thank you.  For, without your award-winning buffoonery, and chortle-inducing haplessness, I would not abound with the delightful, ascerbic seething I enjoy just by sharing the sulfur-laden air that you breathe. 

Happy Thanksgiving Everybody!!!

"There's no other way out of here." -- The Cavanagh Brothers

Well, it's that time of year again.  Time when we are faced with a wide variety of mediocrity while standing in that oh-so-spacious voting booth.  Talk about "boxing us in."

I don't know about you folks but this is just getting boring.  Yet, if you watch the news they will tell you a "revolution" is coming.  Yup, the Democrats are poised to take a majority in the House of Representatives and probably just missing the Senate by a seat or two.  Nevermind that the so-called majority in the House will be a handful of seats.  All of a sudden the "rogues" of each party become much more powerful.  John McCain must be loving this. 

Anyway, the cable companies are having a field day with this Midterm Erection.  (No, I didn't mispell that.)  But, they, intentionally or unintentionally are missing the big story.  Hello, Gridlock anyone?  Republican White House + 50/50 Senate + 51/49 House = Motherfucking Screeching Halt.

Yeah, I know.  What were they doing anyway?  But the American Electorate just fuels this crap.  There are some of us who know the system is fucked beyond fucked but our voice gets buried by the indecisiveness of the ignorant.  Too many people put their hands up and just go with the party they have been, even if their candidate is a stuffed suit.  You'd think the big splosions and raining bodies in New York would have changed this.  Nope!  Of course we're nearing the 3000 casulty mark in Iraq too.  It's been dragged out a lot longer.  Doesn't matter.  Polls show the American public fed up, yet, they are voting in another stalemate.  WTF people!!!  Oh yeah, that's right, you're the same people who will watch the 10th season of Survivor like its different than the first. 

So, I'm fed up with this crap!  Aren't you???  WTF do we do???  I admit dumbfoundedness.  I'm voting this year.  But I'm not voting for any blues or reds.  They don't stand for anything.  They just stand for not being the other guy.  This shit just isn't funny anymore.........

Waking up feels futile
On those mornings.
When you turn on the television,
While you listen to the radio in the shower,
While you read the Daily Press Herald Times with your Joe
And when you finally sit down in your dull gray-carpeted cubicle.

But it all seems redeemed,
Once you put on your favorite tunes,
Once you you get into your groove,
Once you make yet another copy of your ass on the Xerox,
And once you see the boss finally being led out of the office in cuffs. 

It started when I was two years old.  You wouldn,Äôt expect to hear the cathartic choral of cherubs after an ancient window frame just came crashing down upon your fingers.  And, honestly, I don,Äôt think those were
Angels.  I think it was just my grandmother humming along to the Lawrence Welk show again.  Yeah, I loved that show too, well until the bubbles were done that is.  Anyway, yeah, I think that was when I first heard the voice, and that beat.  The syncopation was quite unlike that of others.  But it was pretty damned catchy. 

Of course, my grandmother was the beat master.  She probably never realized she was the one that planted the first seeds of Discordia.  She was a prime example of how to just do whatever the fuck you want to and not worry about what the other uptight Grannies say.  How many other Grandmothers make up stories about the zany adventures of a zit-laden lad?  How many other Grannies would play Atari for 3 hours and be totally into it?  Yup, she was a true Discordian saint, which isn,Äòt too bad for a born-again Baptist. 

Truth be told, I never really understood how different I was until I was in school.  When you grow up in rural, small town America such uniqueness becomes blazingly apparent when you are in a group of other kids.  I was the good kid.  Or at least, that,Äôs what all the teachers would say.  I was quiet, introspective, introverted, but my mind was never silent.  But, I played the good student.  Got my straight A,Äôs in science and arithmetic and didn,Äôt cuss in class.  But I did challenge the authority. 

Now, I,Äôm not talking about the teachers, nor the principals, hell not even the lunch ladies.  No, I,Äôm talking about the authority on the playground.  When you get a bunch of kids together in school the pecking order quickly sorts itself out.  In grade school you don,Äôt have jocks, and preps, and those sorts of literal cliques yet.  But, you definitely see the precursors to them.  You see the group of girls hanging out who will be the prissy, preppy cheerleaders and class treasurers.  You see the guys playing kickball who will be the basketball and soccer stars.  You see the kids whose faces are covered with dirt who will be the vocational students and rebels.  Then you have those kids who are fodder for all of the rest.  I guess I was in that group by default.  By that early age I had already decided that I pretty much hated all of the other kids.  Sure, I had a couple guys I could relate to just enough to call ,Äúfriends.,Äù  But, I,Äôve not kept in touch with any of them.

These kids are expected to give way at the water fountain.  To relinquish the basketballs that aren,Äôt leaking air.  To buckle and succumb to their class bullying.  Now, I would be lying if I said I never ended up being a pushover for one of them.  However, I,Äôd also be lying if I said I never gave them a good slug in the stomach once in awhile.  Of course, doing that sort of thing too often can be hazardous to ones health.  Plus, its easier to just slip in some mystery liquid into their Chop Suey when it,Äôs your turn to work the lunch line.  Who would have thought that stomach convulsions and retching could be so entertaining? 

Of course, I would be painting an inaccurate picture if I said I was always this wacky, zany, chaotic, nose-thumbing kid throughout school.  I think we all stray into the realm of typical ness as we walk our paths.  I had the typical dreams of being a baseball star, a rock star, and an astronaut.  Of course the astronaut dream ended quickly when Ms. McAullife retired from teaching in ,Äò86.  But, yeah, I did enough typical kid things to keep my parents from worrying about me too much.  I figured the inanity of public education was better than weekly sessions with Dr. I. M. Deep.  But, I did know that I hated being a part of this class.  A bunch of kids being total dupes to the whims of predictability.  Bathing themselves in superficiality.  Worrying about playing with the right kids.  Worrying about not looking too smart and geeky.  Worrying about ,Äúgoing out,Äù with the right boy or girl.  Worrying about following Mommy and Daddy,Äôs footprints.  Worrying about becoming a success.

There was just so much more to think about that was much more interesting and much more important,Ķ,Ķ.. 

Well, how are you feeling right now? Good, well, sorry if I spoil it for you, but, you aren't as well as you might think.......

So, have you been watching the news lately? You DO know that IT is coming right? What is IT? What the hell ISN'T IT? And why, for the love of the laughing stoned Jesus, are people surprised anymore?

"Oh my god, those filthy congressmen are coming on to those poor 16 year old pages.!"

"My goodness, that Kim what's his name sure is crazy. But, our troops will protect us."

"Wow, gas is only $2.20 now. Let's go buy a Big Screen Teevee!!!"

And so the ignorant naivete abounds. And so we will continue the firey spiral downwards as we line up to the voting booth. Once again we will pull the levers, poke the chads, click the link, to excercise our right to "Freedom and Democracy." Because, of course, when your buddy gets into Congress he is going to act in YOUR best interests. Yeah, sure he is.

Oh, and did you miss the bit at the U.N. where the diplomat from North Korea pretty much told the U.S. to suck it? Yeah, everything is going to be alright. But don't let that keep you from enjoying your "Deal, Or No Deal."

See, when everyone lines up to cast their votes they forget about all of this stuff. They forget who is responsible for getting us to where we are. And so the vote is cast for the standby's. The names, the parties, the colors that are familiar. The cooks running for those crazy parties are just laughed off and not even considered. It's a perpetual two-horse race. Even though one horse has no fucking clue where it is going and the other just barrels straight ahead paying no attention to the deviations of the track. It's time to enter some new horses but no one wants to break in the broncos. They are just way too scary to even think about.

So, yeah, I'm afraid to say that as long as THEY are still up on Teh Hill we are doomed for a future of radioactive corn flakes. And when the American public wakes up with that healthy ashen complexion of warts and welts, they can take one look in the mirror and see the true "Axis of Evil."