Posts
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Saturday, November 21, 2009
Gulliver's Travels: A Documentary
Indonesian 'hobbits' are a separate species. Gnomes, Pixies, Lilliputians or Leprechauns? Maybe myths and legends from older periods had more truth to them than we've previously thought?
Friday, November 20, 2009
Repost: Two Homeless People On Duval (From "Sense and Antisense")
"Say a prayer for me; in a world of human wreckage.."
Sponge - "loaded"
They congregate at different street corners, on sidewalks, in alleys, at the beach, in boxes. They have no where else to go.
1. The man stood at the corner of Duval and Angela, with his long gray beard and his military-issue clothes and his back-pack and some kind of conic yarn hat on his head, eating from a can, never speaking. Every once in a while, he would do a goose-step type march in place to stretch out his legs, but usually one could find him there, standing and watching. At night, he would sleep on the bench where the trolleys loaded, just off the street from the corner and in the light for protection from the drunks who might get their kicks by fucking with him. He would sleep on his back with his arms folded, looking quite dead. And, for the most part, the drunks, along with everyone else, left him alone.
Some of the shopkeepers would give him food and canned goods. He was never bothersome, and even the police kept an eye out for him. He would disappear for a couple of days, sometimes appearing on the other side of the island, maybe eating from a can, then later re-appearing on his corner picking up where he’d left off.
Rumor had it he’d jumped from a Russian freighter and somehow ended up in Key West, not knowing the language, not knowing anyone. He must have left people behind, a wife, family, or friends. It was hard to look him in the eyes. He would meet curious, sympathetic, or taunting gazes with the same defiant glare.
2. For awhile, the Bearded Lady was a fixture on Duval Street, also. About 5’5" in red spike heels, maybe 90 pounds, sandy blond hair, and always in the same red dress. She reminded me of one of my junior high school teachers, which amused me, but bothered me more. Her behavior seemed to point to schizophrenia. She walked a fine line at all times. She had some serious, threatening, irrational impulses. She moved continually, walking alone through crowds of people, muttering and grimacing.
She would sometimes stop oncoming people and shouting incoherently and aggressively at them, and then move on. She always skipped me, though, as someone to attack. One time, she accosted everyone that passed, but left me alone, even looking away as we crossed. I never understood why she spared me, but I was thankful, nonetheless.
I saw her for the first time on the 800 block of Duval, in front of a restaurant claiming to be "The Best in Key West" (Along with every other damn business on the island…), but never had any patrons, nor did I meet anyone who’d actually eaten there. I had just smoked a joint and was heading into Bahama Village to pick up some friends for a game of pool. Looking down stoned at the sidewalk, I almost ran into her. She was facing the restaurant, furiously turning the pages of a Gideon Bible from right to left, looking for something.
She became aware of my presence. She whipped her head around, staring at me with a look of pure madness. I had interrupted something very, very heavy. So, after that length of a pause, I kept going, trying to remain calm, not wanting to spook her any more. It must have worked, as she resumed turning. The sounds of rustling pages were heard until I rounded the corner. Her search was incomplete; the key passage still not found.
She would show up on the Gulf side of town, wandering around, babbling and screaming, accosting and fighting, and getting thrown out of shops. She went after one cashier with a knife. Some acquaintances dubbed her the "Bearded Lady" ("Freaky as a Bearded Lady!" A friend of mine said.), and the name stuck. She was all over the place, for a while anyway. Her freaky, menacing behavior standing out as strange, even by Key West’s standards. Then she was gone.
I’d imagine she’s dead. Too many negatives on South Florida’s streets for a disoriented schizophrenic to overcome. Too much mean and evil. Maybe not, though. Maybe she’s out there, in a horrifying universe, using the wrong parts of her brain to survive, tortured by the multitudes of demons she encounters daily. Or maybe she got help and is better. I don’t know.
Maybe before.. She was someone’s friend. She was a success. She was married. She was happily single. Red has always been her favorite color.
Before she lost.. Maybe she could feel it coming. "Something is wrong with the way that I’m thinking" is something she might have thought, before. Now "before" is maybe not even a memory anymore. Her family has accepted the loss and moved on. Or maybe, they long for her return. Her mother still looks at her picture every single day.
She walked quickly, out of step with the others, looking back periodically to make sure "they" weren’t following. Her red heels clicked rhythmically on the hot pavement. The vibration of agitation and confusion trailed in her wake. I watched her pass, her head bouncing along, the sound of her clicking heels, her physical body eventually dissolving among the other bodies passing on Duval, and thought of the inevitability of her demise.
Sponge - "loaded"
They congregate at different street corners, on sidewalks, in alleys, at the beach, in boxes. They have no where else to go.
1. The man stood at the corner of Duval and Angela, with his long gray beard and his military-issue clothes and his back-pack and some kind of conic yarn hat on his head, eating from a can, never speaking. Every once in a while, he would do a goose-step type march in place to stretch out his legs, but usually one could find him there, standing and watching. At night, he would sleep on the bench where the trolleys loaded, just off the street from the corner and in the light for protection from the drunks who might get their kicks by fucking with him. He would sleep on his back with his arms folded, looking quite dead. And, for the most part, the drunks, along with everyone else, left him alone.
Some of the shopkeepers would give him food and canned goods. He was never bothersome, and even the police kept an eye out for him. He would disappear for a couple of days, sometimes appearing on the other side of the island, maybe eating from a can, then later re-appearing on his corner picking up where he’d left off.
Rumor had it he’d jumped from a Russian freighter and somehow ended up in Key West, not knowing the language, not knowing anyone. He must have left people behind, a wife, family, or friends. It was hard to look him in the eyes. He would meet curious, sympathetic, or taunting gazes with the same defiant glare.
2. For awhile, the Bearded Lady was a fixture on Duval Street, also. About 5’5" in red spike heels, maybe 90 pounds, sandy blond hair, and always in the same red dress. She reminded me of one of my junior high school teachers, which amused me, but bothered me more. Her behavior seemed to point to schizophrenia. She walked a fine line at all times. She had some serious, threatening, irrational impulses. She moved continually, walking alone through crowds of people, muttering and grimacing.
She would sometimes stop oncoming people and shouting incoherently and aggressively at them, and then move on. She always skipped me, though, as someone to attack. One time, she accosted everyone that passed, but left me alone, even looking away as we crossed. I never understood why she spared me, but I was thankful, nonetheless.
I saw her for the first time on the 800 block of Duval, in front of a restaurant claiming to be "The Best in Key West" (Along with every other damn business on the island…), but never had any patrons, nor did I meet anyone who’d actually eaten there. I had just smoked a joint and was heading into Bahama Village to pick up some friends for a game of pool. Looking down stoned at the sidewalk, I almost ran into her. She was facing the restaurant, furiously turning the pages of a Gideon Bible from right to left, looking for something.
She became aware of my presence. She whipped her head around, staring at me with a look of pure madness. I had interrupted something very, very heavy. So, after that length of a pause, I kept going, trying to remain calm, not wanting to spook her any more. It must have worked, as she resumed turning. The sounds of rustling pages were heard until I rounded the corner. Her search was incomplete; the key passage still not found.
She would show up on the Gulf side of town, wandering around, babbling and screaming, accosting and fighting, and getting thrown out of shops. She went after one cashier with a knife. Some acquaintances dubbed her the "Bearded Lady" ("Freaky as a Bearded Lady!" A friend of mine said.), and the name stuck. She was all over the place, for a while anyway. Her freaky, menacing behavior standing out as strange, even by Key West’s standards. Then she was gone.
I’d imagine she’s dead. Too many negatives on South Florida’s streets for a disoriented schizophrenic to overcome. Too much mean and evil. Maybe not, though. Maybe she’s out there, in a horrifying universe, using the wrong parts of her brain to survive, tortured by the multitudes of demons she encounters daily. Or maybe she got help and is better. I don’t know.
Maybe before.. She was someone’s friend. She was a success. She was married. She was happily single. Red has always been her favorite color.
Before she lost.. Maybe she could feel it coming. "Something is wrong with the way that I’m thinking" is something she might have thought, before. Now "before" is maybe not even a memory anymore. Her family has accepted the loss and moved on. Or maybe, they long for her return. Her mother still looks at her picture every single day.
She walked quickly, out of step with the others, looking back periodically to make sure "they" weren’t following. Her red heels clicked rhythmically on the hot pavement. The vibration of agitation and confusion trailed in her wake. I watched her pass, her head bouncing along, the sound of her clicking heels, her physical body eventually dissolving among the other bodies passing on Duval, and thought of the inevitability of her demise.
Repost: Excerpts from the Myers-Briggs Personality Type indicator on Introverted Intuitive Types INTJ and INFJ
Driven by their vision of the possibilities.
Determined to the point of stubbornness.
Intensely individualistic.
Stimulated by difficulties, and most ingenious in solving them.
Willing to concede that the impossible takes a little longer – but not much.
More interested in pioneering a new road than anything to be found along the beaten path.
Motivated by inspiration, which they value above everything else and use confidently for their best achievements in any field they choose – science, engineering, invention, political or industrial empire-building, social reform, teaching, writing, psychology, philosophy, or religion.
Deeply discontented in a routine job that offers no scope for inspiration.
Gifted, at their best, with a fine insight into the deeper meanings of things, and with a great deal of drive…
“Their greatest gifts come directly from their intuition – the flashes of inspiration, the insight into relationships of ideas and meaning of symbols, the imagination, the originality, the access to resources of the unconscious, the ingenuity, and the visions of what could be. These are all inner gifts on the perceptive side. Without a developed auxiliary judging process, they will have little or no development of an outer personality and equally limited use of the gifts. However, a good judging process in support will shape the intuitive perceptions into conclusions or actions that will have a sound impact on the outer world."
Van der Hoop recognized this problem: ‘There is peculiar difficulty where this inner knowledge is concerned, in finding even approximate expression for what is perceived. It is extremely important, therefore, for people of this type to attain through their education a technique of expression…
The development of this type is slower and more arduous than that of most other people…Such children are not very amenable to influence from their environment. They may have periods of uncertainty and reserve, after which they suddenly become very determined, and if then they are opposed, they may manifest an astonishing self-will and obstinacy. As a result of the intensely spontaneous activity within, they are frequently moody, occasionally brilliant and original, then again reserved, stubborn, and arrogant.
In later life, also, it is a persistent characteristic of people of this type, that while on the one hand they possess great determination, on the other hand they find it very difficult to express what they want. Although they may have only a vague feeling about the way they want to go, and of the meaning of their life, they will nevertheless reject with great stubbornness anything that does not fit in with this. They fear lest external influences or circumstances should drive them in a wrong direction, and they resist on principle (1939, p. 48).’
It follows that these people cannot be successfully coerced. They will not even be told anything without their permission, but they will accept an offer of facts, opinions, or theories, for free consideration; the excellence of their understanding must be trusted to recognize what is true.”
Introverted Intuition supported by Thinking
INTJ’s are the most independent of all the 16 types and take more or less conscious pride in that independence. Whatever their field, they are likely to be innovators. In business, they are born reorganizers. Intuition gives them an iconoclastic imagination and an unhampered view of the possibilities; extraverted thinking supplies a keenly critical organizing faculty. “Whatever is, could doubtless be improved!” They are likely, however, to organize themselves out of a job. They cannot continually reorganize the same thing, and a finished product has no interest. Thus, they need successive new assignments, with bigger and better problems, to stretch their powers.
Even when well balanced, they have a tendency to ignore the views and feelings of other people. Use of the critical attitude in personal relations is a destructive luxury, which can have a disintegrating effect upon their personal lives. They would do well to make an effort to use their critical faculty on their impersonal problems and on themselves and to work for some development of appreciation (they need not call it feeling) to use on others.”
Determined to the point of stubbornness.
Intensely individualistic.
Stimulated by difficulties, and most ingenious in solving them.
Willing to concede that the impossible takes a little longer – but not much.
More interested in pioneering a new road than anything to be found along the beaten path.
Motivated by inspiration, which they value above everything else and use confidently for their best achievements in any field they choose – science, engineering, invention, political or industrial empire-building, social reform, teaching, writing, psychology, philosophy, or religion.
Deeply discontented in a routine job that offers no scope for inspiration.
Gifted, at their best, with a fine insight into the deeper meanings of things, and with a great deal of drive…
“Their greatest gifts come directly from their intuition – the flashes of inspiration, the insight into relationships of ideas and meaning of symbols, the imagination, the originality, the access to resources of the unconscious, the ingenuity, and the visions of what could be. These are all inner gifts on the perceptive side. Without a developed auxiliary judging process, they will have little or no development of an outer personality and equally limited use of the gifts. However, a good judging process in support will shape the intuitive perceptions into conclusions or actions that will have a sound impact on the outer world."
Van der Hoop recognized this problem: ‘There is peculiar difficulty where this inner knowledge is concerned, in finding even approximate expression for what is perceived. It is extremely important, therefore, for people of this type to attain through their education a technique of expression…
The development of this type is slower and more arduous than that of most other people…Such children are not very amenable to influence from their environment. They may have periods of uncertainty and reserve, after which they suddenly become very determined, and if then they are opposed, they may manifest an astonishing self-will and obstinacy. As a result of the intensely spontaneous activity within, they are frequently moody, occasionally brilliant and original, then again reserved, stubborn, and arrogant.
In later life, also, it is a persistent characteristic of people of this type, that while on the one hand they possess great determination, on the other hand they find it very difficult to express what they want. Although they may have only a vague feeling about the way they want to go, and of the meaning of their life, they will nevertheless reject with great stubbornness anything that does not fit in with this. They fear lest external influences or circumstances should drive them in a wrong direction, and they resist on principle (1939, p. 48).’
It follows that these people cannot be successfully coerced. They will not even be told anything without their permission, but they will accept an offer of facts, opinions, or theories, for free consideration; the excellence of their understanding must be trusted to recognize what is true.”
Introverted Intuition supported by Thinking
INTJ’s are the most independent of all the 16 types and take more or less conscious pride in that independence. Whatever their field, they are likely to be innovators. In business, they are born reorganizers. Intuition gives them an iconoclastic imagination and an unhampered view of the possibilities; extraverted thinking supplies a keenly critical organizing faculty. “Whatever is, could doubtless be improved!” They are likely, however, to organize themselves out of a job. They cannot continually reorganize the same thing, and a finished product has no interest. Thus, they need successive new assignments, with bigger and better problems, to stretch their powers.
Even when well balanced, they have a tendency to ignore the views and feelings of other people. Use of the critical attitude in personal relations is a destructive luxury, which can have a disintegrating effect upon their personal lives. They would do well to make an effort to use their critical faculty on their impersonal problems and on themselves and to work for some development of appreciation (they need not call it feeling) to use on others.”
CERN Update
Tomorrow holds all sorts of possibilities--It could be the beginning of great strides in the worlds of physics, science, and technology; or we could all be vaporized within a split second. I'm guessing the real answer will fall somewhere within those parameters..
Related potential doom post(my favorite from last week), and an oldie but a goodie..
Is Future CERN really trying to destroy itself? The second link is from YouTube, if you feel like watching, not reading..
Related potential doom post(my favorite from last week), and an oldie but a goodie..
Is Future CERN really trying to destroy itself? The second link is from YouTube, if you feel like watching, not reading..
Huh..
Branson Police Catch Robber Inside Store. Dumb Criminal -- This could be (IS) Branson's crappiest gift shop. Why would anyone want to rob that? Really.. why?
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Ukrainian Flu/Plague Update/Roundup
"Deadly flu spreads across Ukraine"
"total destruction of the lungs." Ukrainian Doctor Viktor Bachinsky has stated, "The virus causing the deaths is extremely aggressive -- it doesn't first infect the throat (as is common in flu), but strikes the lungs directly."
"..there are signs the virus is genetic engineered."
WHO Continues To Deceive: Assumes That Ukraine Plague Is H1N1 Swine Flu
or is this just a political ploy?
"total destruction of the lungs." Ukrainian Doctor Viktor Bachinsky has stated, "The virus causing the deaths is extremely aggressive -- it doesn't first infect the throat (as is common in flu), but strikes the lungs directly."
"..there are signs the virus is genetic engineered."
WHO Continues To Deceive: Assumes That Ukraine Plague Is H1N1 Swine Flu
or is this just a political ploy?
The People Who Wrecked The World
Pretty comprehensive Anti Baby Boomer rant from a poster at AlienEarth.
Being a member of Generation X has always felt like the kid left standing at the end of "Musical Chairs." First we were left out because we were too young to be taken seriously by those before us. Then we were left out because the Boomers were taken too seriously. Then we were left out because the Silent Generation before the Boomers wanted to hang on a little while longer. And now, we're still shut out because the Boomers want to hang on a little while longer. And all the while, Gen Y approaches from behind..
While great technological advances happened during our formative years (into adulthood), our generation had to familiarize ourselves with these advances, not think within them. As tech-savvy as some of my generation might be, GenY grew up fluent in Internet and computer knowledge. If I were an employer and had to choose a programmer or designer for any future high end tech projects, I'd definitely go with a GenY candidate. In other words, while we learned it, they live it. And again, the music ends and we're left standing..
We are more independent, cynical, and grounded(but nomadic) than our older brothers and sisters (or parents). We got hip to the fact we lost the "chronological lottery" early, along with any optimistic assessments of the future (I don't know anyone who wasn't just a little freaked out after watching "The Day After.."). We are the most educated generation, but we are also the first to reverse the trend of making more money than our parents. Economically, the American Dream died with us; we just weren't aware of it.
So a lot of us have said "fuck you" to the conventions of society, and do whatever we want, kind of.. We are the Service Industry, Middle Management, and the Creatives who can't fully impliment their visions. We still don't save for the future, live paycheck to paycheck, never once thought Social Security would be around when we retired (Old people Freak Out when you say that to them. Evidently, it's a scary thought..), and yet, there seems to be this hope that, when the shit Really hits the fan, we'll get ours together and get to work. Will my generation ever find cohesion? Will I?
Being a member of Generation X has always felt like the kid left standing at the end of "Musical Chairs." First we were left out because we were too young to be taken seriously by those before us. Then we were left out because the Boomers were taken too seriously. Then we were left out because the Silent Generation before the Boomers wanted to hang on a little while longer. And now, we're still shut out because the Boomers want to hang on a little while longer. And all the while, Gen Y approaches from behind..
While great technological advances happened during our formative years (into adulthood), our generation had to familiarize ourselves with these advances, not think within them. As tech-savvy as some of my generation might be, GenY grew up fluent in Internet and computer knowledge. If I were an employer and had to choose a programmer or designer for any future high end tech projects, I'd definitely go with a GenY candidate. In other words, while we learned it, they live it. And again, the music ends and we're left standing..
We are more independent, cynical, and grounded(but nomadic) than our older brothers and sisters (or parents). We got hip to the fact we lost the "chronological lottery" early, along with any optimistic assessments of the future (I don't know anyone who wasn't just a little freaked out after watching "The Day After.."). We are the most educated generation, but we are also the first to reverse the trend of making more money than our parents. Economically, the American Dream died with us; we just weren't aware of it.
So a lot of us have said "fuck you" to the conventions of society, and do whatever we want, kind of.. We are the Service Industry, Middle Management, and the Creatives who can't fully impliment their visions. We still don't save for the future, live paycheck to paycheck, never once thought Social Security would be around when we retired (Old people Freak Out when you say that to them. Evidently, it's a scary thought..), and yet, there seems to be this hope that, when the shit Really hits the fan, we'll get ours together and get to work. Will my generation ever find cohesion? Will I?
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Hannity Uses Beck's Protest Footage
Fox News takes another Gigantic Crap on the corpse of Journalistic Integrity..
Also; Hannity should feel like a lame ass super tard for getting caught lifting Beck's footage, but I'm sure he doesn't. He's too far removed from the reality he's creating.
Also; John Stewart is awesome and hilarious. And brave; very brave.
Also; Hannity should feel like a lame ass super tard for getting caught lifting Beck's footage, but I'm sure he doesn't. He's too far removed from the reality he's creating.
Also; John Stewart is awesome and hilarious. And brave; very brave.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
DIY Video for Radiohead's "All I Need"
Wow, man! I thought Radiohead had put this together! This is one of the finest examples of edit-driven narrative in a video as I've ever seen. The Microcosmos(insects and their environment) acts as a reflection of larger forces in nature(us/our world), exposed to even larger forces(rain/the elements/Macrocosm) that can, in turn, act as either Creator, or Destroyer.
Who knew pollinating dandelions and bouncing lady bugs could bring so much catharsis?
Bonus video from the creator, J. Tyler Helms. This guy's got some serious talent..
Who knew pollinating dandelions and bouncing lady bugs could bring so much catharsis?
Bonus video from the creator, J. Tyler Helms. This guy's got some serious talent..
10 Diabetes Super Foods
Great list to have and live by. Reader's Digest, is there anything you can't do? Other than, of course, present a political view left of "Center-Right.."
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Exclusive: Mike Connell's Family Copes With His Mysterious Death, Tipsters, Legal Options
"Although mainly un-reported, there's a great deal of controversy surrounding Connell's death - largely in part because he was the architect of many Republican websites including GeorgeWBush.com and GWB43.com, the site Karl Rove used for 95% of his email correspondence. Connell was also considered a key witness in the election fraud lawsuit King Lincoln Bronzeville Neighborhood Association v. Blackwell. The suit implicates Former Ohio Secretary of State Kenneth J. Blackwell, Karl Rove and others of 2004 election night vote rigging."
Karl Rove probably had absolutely nothing to do with this. Nothing. Absolutely Nothing.
Courtesy Bradblog.
Karl Rove probably had absolutely nothing to do with this. Nothing. Absolutely Nothing.
Courtesy Bradblog.
30 GOP Senators Vote to Defend Gang Rape
Somewhat old news, but deserves to be spread. Also Known As: Republican Senators bow down to Corporate Masters.. It all applies.
Uh-Oh..
File Under: Potentially Serious Doom. See Also: Global Implications.
Technically, this war never ended, so an incident like this could restart a really ugly war-by-proxy between China and the United States. Three potential narratives play out:
1. Escalation. Not outright war, but strained-to-failing diplomatic relations
could lead there soon.
2. Pop! We wake up tomorrow or Wednesday or any day real soon and we are at war.
3. Dissipation. Effective Diplomatic overtime keeps this in the "Near Miss" category.
Pay attention. This might be important.
Technically, this war never ended, so an incident like this could restart a really ugly war-by-proxy between China and the United States. Three potential narratives play out:
1. Escalation. Not outright war, but strained-to-failing diplomatic relations
could lead there soon.
2. Pop! We wake up tomorrow or Wednesday or any day real soon and we are at war.
3. Dissipation. Effective Diplomatic overtime keeps this in the "Near Miss" category.
Pay attention. This might be important.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
This Is Friggin' AWESOME!
Have a conversation with Cleverbot. Ask it anything, then wrap your head around the fact this is Artificial Intelligence! I had a 30 minute conversation with.. it last night. Amazing..
The Final Mayan calendar steps to 2012: November 8, 2009 – the beginning of the Sixth NIGHT
New from Calleman. This starts today. Buckle up, Buddy-Roe..
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Follow Up To The Ukraine Panic Story
Yeah, looks like it might be Pneumonic Plague. Have a nice day!
"Looking at the entire metropolis, it becomes obvious that this was a well planned community, developed by a highly evolved civilization."
From:
"They have always been there. People noticed them before. But no one could remember who made them -- or why? Until just recently, no one even knew how many there were. Now they are everywhere -- thousands -- no, hundreds of thousands of them! And the story they tell is the most important story of humanity. But it's one we might not be prepared to hear.
Something amazing has been discovered in an area of South Africa, about 150 miles inland, west of the port of Maputo. It is the remains of a huge metropolis that measures, in conservative estimates, about 1500 square miles. It's part of an even larger community that is about 10,000 square miles and appears to have been constructed -- are you ready -- from 160,000 to 200,000 BCE!"
To:
"Mitochondrial Eve would have been roughly contemporary with humans whose fossils have been found in Ethiopia near the Omo River and at Hertho. Mitochondrial Eve lived significantly earlier than the out of Africa migration which might have occurred some 60,000 to 95,000 years ago.
The region in Africa where one can find the greatest level of mitochondrial diversity (green) and the region anthropologists postulated the most ancient division in the human population began to occur (light brown). The ancient metropolis in located in this latter (brown) region which also corresponds to the estimated age when the genetic changes suddenly happened.
Could this be a coincidence?"
To:
"Since these events appear to coincide with the dates of "Mitochondrial Eve" (i.e. 150,000 to 250,000 BP) and appear to be located in the richest gold mining region on the planet (Abzu), some researchers are thinking that the Sumerian legends may, in fact, be based on historical events."
And:
"According to the story, one of the "gods" had sympathy for a particular human, Zuisudra, and warned him to construct a boat to ride out the flood. This eventually became the basis for the story of Noah in the book of Genesis.
Did this really happen? The only other explanation is to imagine that the Sumerian legends, acknowledging life on other planets and human cloning, were extraordinary science-fiction. This in itself would be amazing. But we now have evidence that the mining city, Abzu, is real and that it existed in the same era as the sudden evolution of hominids to homo sapiens.
Just think about this for a while."
"They have always been there. People noticed them before. But no one could remember who made them -- or why? Until just recently, no one even knew how many there were. Now they are everywhere -- thousands -- no, hundreds of thousands of them! And the story they tell is the most important story of humanity. But it's one we might not be prepared to hear.
Something amazing has been discovered in an area of South Africa, about 150 miles inland, west of the port of Maputo. It is the remains of a huge metropolis that measures, in conservative estimates, about 1500 square miles. It's part of an even larger community that is about 10,000 square miles and appears to have been constructed -- are you ready -- from 160,000 to 200,000 BCE!"
To:
"Mitochondrial Eve would have been roughly contemporary with humans whose fossils have been found in Ethiopia near the Omo River and at Hertho. Mitochondrial Eve lived significantly earlier than the out of Africa migration which might have occurred some 60,000 to 95,000 years ago.
The region in Africa where one can find the greatest level of mitochondrial diversity (green) and the region anthropologists postulated the most ancient division in the human population began to occur (light brown). The ancient metropolis in located in this latter (brown) region which also corresponds to the estimated age when the genetic changes suddenly happened.
Could this be a coincidence?"
To:
"Since these events appear to coincide with the dates of "Mitochondrial Eve" (i.e. 150,000 to 250,000 BP) and appear to be located in the richest gold mining region on the planet (Abzu), some researchers are thinking that the Sumerian legends may, in fact, be based on historical events."
And:
"According to the story, one of the "gods" had sympathy for a particular human, Zuisudra, and warned him to construct a boat to ride out the flood. This eventually became the basis for the story of Noah in the book of Genesis.
Did this really happen? The only other explanation is to imagine that the Sumerian legends, acknowledging life on other planets and human cloning, were extraordinary science-fiction. This in itself would be amazing. But we now have evidence that the mining city, Abzu, is real and that it existed in the same era as the sudden evolution of hominids to homo sapiens.
Just think about this for a while."
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Any Guesses?
Xymphora's got some ideas..
Don't forget to read about Jean Spangler, too. I've always been just a little creeped out by the Actor In Question. Maybe this is why.
Don't forget to read about Jean Spangler, too. I've always been just a little creeped out by the Actor In Question. Maybe this is why.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Best UFO Pictures Taken By NASA You'll Ever See
From their own satellite imagery! And no, it's not "space junk," either..
Monday, November 2, 2009
Panic in Ukraine, Authorities deny aircraft are spraying aerosols over cities, Martial Law expected
The Header says it all.. If this is the real thing, things could get a little freaky worldwide. This deserves some follow up, and I'll be watching over the next week or so..
ATS has a take on who might be responsible..
ATS has a take on who might be responsible..
Caves? On the moon? What'll they think of next?
With the discovery of water(much more than expected) and now, potentially livable caves, the Moon's starting to look a little more habitable..
Friday, October 30, 2009
Mega-Historical Re-Think, Take One..
Archaeologists have discovered the Popul Vuh (otherwise known as the Mayan Creation Story) in what is possibly the largest pyramid in the world, one of possibly thousands of pyramids in what was an ancient Metropolis known as Mirador. CNN has the footage.. Link to ATS forum. The frieze recounting the Popul Vuh predates the arrival of Christianity by 1000 years, so what will likely emerge from this new discovery will re-write much(MUCH) regarding what is known about Mayan religion and civilization.
These discoveries might accomplish several things:
A. The context of time and technology in Mesoamerica will come into sharper focus. The discriminatory mythologies of cave dwellers, native idiots, and the bleed-through of Americanized stereotypes of scalpin', rapin', and smokum-peace-pipes is done. These were urban dwellers whose societal structure was set up on advanced mathematical and astronomical foundations that rival our current understanding of same concepts. The level of their achievements should be respected and further explored, and now, with more awareness, they will.
B. The Spanish (supposedly) destroyed almost all but the remaining information on the Mayan Civilization. Hopefully, copies of formerly unavailable Codices will appear, possibly providing a Rosetta Stone moment, a spike in the information pool, and some more context for the entire 2012 Movement. (The Emmerich directed movie leads me out of the "Apocalypse" category, for some reason.. It's now become too mainstream to go down this way. At least, that's how I feel at the moment..). If no more texts are found, there will still be a massive information influx by studies of street configurations and placement and construction of Mirador's buildings.
C. The reminder to the Anglo sphere, that, when our European ancestors were still backwards, ignorant, and barbaric, mighty civilizations based on science and thought grew and thrived. The magnitude of Mesoamerica's reversal of fortune might have special implications for our (America, Europe.. "us.") immediate and long term collective future. Empires rise, then fall, and when they do fall, they fall hard. Did the Mayans ever think their time would end?
There also might be spiritual implications, dimensional discoveries.. The possibilities are wide open. This could be a threshold moment, the beginning of a wave of discoveries, causing a complete change in implications of what it means to be alive, human, and living on this planet..
These discoveries might accomplish several things:
A. The context of time and technology in Mesoamerica will come into sharper focus. The discriminatory mythologies of cave dwellers, native idiots, and the bleed-through of Americanized stereotypes of scalpin', rapin', and smokum-peace-pipes is done. These were urban dwellers whose societal structure was set up on advanced mathematical and astronomical foundations that rival our current understanding of same concepts. The level of their achievements should be respected and further explored, and now, with more awareness, they will.
B. The Spanish (supposedly) destroyed almost all but the remaining information on the Mayan Civilization. Hopefully, copies of formerly unavailable Codices will appear, possibly providing a Rosetta Stone moment, a spike in the information pool, and some more context for the entire 2012 Movement. (The Emmerich directed movie leads me out of the "Apocalypse" category, for some reason.. It's now become too mainstream to go down this way. At least, that's how I feel at the moment..). If no more texts are found, there will still be a massive information influx by studies of street configurations and placement and construction of Mirador's buildings.
C. The reminder to the Anglo sphere, that, when our European ancestors were still backwards, ignorant, and barbaric, mighty civilizations based on science and thought grew and thrived. The magnitude of Mesoamerica's reversal of fortune might have special implications for our (America, Europe.. "us.") immediate and long term collective future. Empires rise, then fall, and when they do fall, they fall hard. Did the Mayans ever think their time would end?
There also might be spiritual implications, dimensional discoveries.. The possibilities are wide open. This could be a threshold moment, the beginning of a wave of discoveries, causing a complete change in implications of what it means to be alive, human, and living on this planet..
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Further Consideration Needed
I have been absent, as of late. In this phase of life, so much more has become meaningful. Life is more relevant. Actions and reactions are more significant. It's wonderful, but there's so much more to process!
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Flashback: In The Lair Of The Europeans
In the lair of the Europeans, December 1994
"Why don’t you close your eyes and re-invent me?"
-Massive Attack, "Mezzanine"
Sticking close to Ana, my security, not knowing them, unfamiliar, unsure, and yet…
Limbo, the treetop bar, overlooking Duval, close to midnight, on a still warm December night. I am with Ana, of course, and Nathalie, Sharon, and Elan, sometimes Helen and Stephan, and the gay Israeli guy who likes me (and I kinda like him, but I’m still with ___, so no…) are there, too. The trade winds are blowing most pleasantly, and there are some girls dancing in front of the DJ, who is from England (not that that makes him cool or nuthin’) and who is more than competent…
The bar catered to this fun, young, gorgeous, international crowd that was so nice to look at. But most of the time, I was quiet. Observing them, shy, intimidated by these interesting, rounded, sophisticated young adults, some of them, anyway (sophisticated, that is), their hands extended in friendship to me.
I wear a baseball cap, flannel shirt, smoke Marlboro Reds, and drink Budweiser. "You are so American." They say. "And yet you are not."
They are curious of me, also.
"Why don’t you close your eyes and re-invent me?"
-Massive Attack, "Mezzanine"
Sticking close to Ana, my security, not knowing them, unfamiliar, unsure, and yet…
Limbo, the treetop bar, overlooking Duval, close to midnight, on a still warm December night. I am with Ana, of course, and Nathalie, Sharon, and Elan, sometimes Helen and Stephan, and the gay Israeli guy who likes me (and I kinda like him, but I’m still with ___, so no…) are there, too. The trade winds are blowing most pleasantly, and there are some girls dancing in front of the DJ, who is from England (not that that makes him cool or nuthin’) and who is more than competent…
The bar catered to this fun, young, gorgeous, international crowd that was so nice to look at. But most of the time, I was quiet. Observing them, shy, intimidated by these interesting, rounded, sophisticated young adults, some of them, anyway (sophisticated, that is), their hands extended in friendship to me.
I wear a baseball cap, flannel shirt, smoke Marlboro Reds, and drink Budweiser. "You are so American." They say. "And yet you are not."
They are curious of me, also.
Flashback: Seven Random Thoughts of Key West
1. (November 1993) On the first night of her arrival, my roommate _____ got hit in the head by a coconut. We had been drinking in celebration of her arrival on the island, and were walking down a side street. _____was underneath a Palm at exactly the right moment. The coconut came loose and dropped right on her head. Coconut impacts have killed people before, but this incident only left her extremely shaken.
She never liked living in Key West. And from the beginning, the feeling was evidently mutual.
2.(November 1994) My friend Ana, the French girl, and I would sit outside our respective places of work and smoke. "Let’s have a ciggy, shall we?" She’d say. So we’d sit, with nothing else to do but smoke, watching the people walk Duval.
A drunken bearded man in a black dress riding a bicycle approached. When he got in front of us, he decided to stop by putting on his brakes and slowly falling over. Ana and I exchanged looks, neither of us busting out with laughter, but close. The man lay half on the street and sidewalk for awhile, then began to get up, wrestling with the bike and his dress and his intoxication in the fight to right himself vertically. It was a slow process.
His dress appeared to be of cheap satin (Is it called Crinoline?) that swished and crunched loudly as he rolled around the sidewalk. And unlike the drag queens, he didn’t wear makeup. But then, how could he, with that full, full beard he was sporting? I’m not sure he was even aware that we were several feet away the whole time.
Seconds turned into minutes turned into pathetic, and we decided to go inside by the time he began to fully stand. We watched some more from inside, as he smoothed his dress down and began walking in the direction from which he’d come, leaving his bike half on the street, half on the sidewalk.
3.My stalker, Simon – October 1993 to May 1994
God love him, this guy was a mess. He was obsessive, kinda creepy, not threatening, really, but he did provide some seriously unintentional comic gems during our stalker/stalkee acquaintance.
The first time we met, I was working at the smaller clothing store by myself one Saturday afternoon/evening. He came in, looked around a few minutes, and then began to ask me questions. No one was in the store, so he questioned further, then began telling me about the minutiae of his excruciating everyday existence. Painful to go through, I’m sure, but painful to listen to, as well.
No one came into the store, so I had no distractions and no course of action but to continue listening. After about 90 minutes, the manager of the other store called and I acted like he wanted me to close the store and go across the street to the other store, for a moment. So I finally got rid of him, for the meantime, for the first time, that day. He then began to show up at either store frequently, and consistently.
After I got fired from the clothing stores, I got a job bar backing and bar tending at One Saloon. Simon couldn’t find me, for a while, anyway. He spotted me one night, emptying glass bottles into one of the recycling bins at the front entrance of the bar. I saw him coming, mentally cussed for a moment, turned around, said hello, then went back to work.
Afterward, his visits became, once again, frequent and consistent. Sometimes he’d come in, sometimes not, content to speak with me by the garbage cans. Once in a while, my friend the bouncer wouldn’t let him in, just to fuck with his head. On my nights to bar tend, I usually worked the bar by the dance floor. It was a little slower volume-wise, and the other bartenders had seniority, so they’d take the two other, busier bars and leave that station to me.
But I was totally fine with arrangement. I loved the music, and could work at a little slower pace than when I’d bar back. And I was also first out, which meant I might get five or six hours of sleep that night, as opposed to my normal two and a half to four. My life consisted of nap time, twice daily, and work. Graphic design by day (10:00-5:00), bar staff at night (8:30/9:00-5:00), and in between, sleep.
The bar wouldn’t fill up until 10:30 or 11. Sometimes it was earlier on busy weeks, but at 9 when we opened, there was almost no one there. Few people came in earlier than Simon. The dance floor was fairly small, mirrored, had a continuous rail for drinks and ashtrays, and light and fog effects for the dancers. And it was empty, except for me and Simon, disco music blaring from the speakers as he awkwardly stared and/or mumbled.
The owners took operation of the bar seriously. One of them was the DJ on Mondays and Tuesdays, our busiest nights. On those nights, Simon would stand at the back of the dance floor 20 feet away, and lay out papers against the back wall of the floor, showing me proof that he’d done his homework. He went to school at Florida Keys Community College. He’d leave them out until people started filtering back to the back bar. Then he’d get very frantic, quickly pull the papers together, and rush out the back exit, all in a matter of 15 or 20 seconds. Just like his presence, his aftermath was puzzlement to all involved.
Sometimes, if I was behind the garden bar changing kegs or doing whatever, the bouncer would give me a heads-up that Simon was there by saying his name loudly. I’d stay hidden until he was convinced I wasn’t working that night. He was harmless, like I said, but some nights, I just couldn’t be bothered. It was a game, in a way. I never led this guy on, but I didn’t take his visits too seriously, either.
One night, as I worked at the garden bar, Simon came in, drank three cans of beer, and fell asleep in his seat, face-first on the bar, snoring somewhat softly. He said he’d been drinking earlier, so his passing out was of no surprise. The waiters from our sister establishment, La Trattoria Venezia, would usually sit at my bar after their shift, get very drunk, and leave lots of money. They were also great customers, very pleasant and fun to be around. Sometimes the bar would show gay porn on the televisions around the bar, and we’d make up hilarious, drunken dialogue to coincide with the action.
But on this one particular night, they were content to drink and laugh, humored at the sight of Simon sleeping and snoring and drooling at the end of the bar. I looked at the French girl, Coco, and said, "Watch this—SIMON WAKE UP!!" I screamed. He jolted and shook and panicked and ran out the door before he’d even woke up, laughter from the employees following him down Appelrouth Lane.
I didn’t see him for awhile after that. Evidently, I wasn’t the only one he was stalking. ___ said a friend of his found Simon in the gated driveway of his house, asleep on the gravel drive. And he’d follow other guy’s home, too, never threatening, just following or talking. Later, another friend told me he’d seen Simon being restrained then dragged, screaming, from the Red Cross blood drive.
4. November 1993 The cute insane guy would walk the streets all day, every day for awhile, holding a copy of some unexpected classic in paperback, saying very little ever, walking and stopping and staring. I’m not sure if he was homeless or not, as he stayed pretty clean despite the heat. And he was so damn cute! Really strong, handsome good looks, good hair, and (had he not been crazy) beautiful eyes. He wasn’t ill mannered or seemingly all that tortured, just not there.
My guess was assisted living via rich family. Out of sight, out of mind, fun in the sun, this sort of rationale. He left or disappeared maybe a month and a half later. I wish I could remember the name of that book. It gave me the impression he was really smart, but had crossed the line. I also got the feeling he read that book repeatedly.
5. September and October 1993 The owner of the ChitChat was quite demonstrative of his opinions. The sign outside the restaurant promised a two eggs, grits, and home-fries meal for 99 cents. The place was always busy, although I never met anyone who’d gone twice. The ChitChat was our first breakfast in our new home. The eggs sucked, the cream curdled the second it entered the coffee, and it was there that we realized Ben’s van had been towed, as it was visibly gone from where it had been parked. The waitress said, "Welcome to Key West."
Along with the restaurant, his property included a white stone wall along Duval Street. Whenever the urge his him, he’d spray paint different anecdotes to provoke thought, incite a riot, or some action in between from those reading his diatribes. I took a picture of one that said, "Surgeon General Jocelyn Elders: Tell the American people about "Agent Orange and AIDS serum"…When was it made??? By whom? "Well maybe I can help you" (1) July 7, 1976."
After awhile, he’d repaint the wall white, and then later, he’d spray paint something else.
6. September 1993 Ben and I listened to the Smashing Pumpkins’ "Siamese Dream" most of the way from Missouri to Key West and then until he left, three months later. I don’t know how many times we listened to it, but the number was close to 200. And I still don’t know the names of most of the songs and very little of the lyrics. But he really loved that CD.
7. _____ hated to go to the New Moon Saloon, but she would go if I repeatedly asked her. They had great burgers and wings, but they also had the worst service on the island. The bar was sunken, so the sitting patrons and bartenders were at eye level with the other. There were black velvet portraits on the walls of Miles Davis, Carly Simon, Jimi Hendrix, I think, and Sinatra or someone like him. There was always some kind of shit kickin’ rock and roll, boogie or blues, or metal blaring, much more for the bar patrons than the restaurant. And those Sixties or Seventies-era monolith comfort booths really hit the spot after a hard night of drinking.
But the service sucked so bad! On more than one occasion, the waiter or waitress was obviously more wasted than we were, seriously pissing _____ off. Also, there was this funked-out crack-head vibe about the place, as it was only one of a few 24-hour places in Old Town. Lots of weirdness, lots of druggy stares and behavior, from both the staff and clientele, and snippets of conversation that was, in any context, unsettling. Always.
Good wings, though.
She never liked living in Key West. And from the beginning, the feeling was evidently mutual.
2.(November 1994) My friend Ana, the French girl, and I would sit outside our respective places of work and smoke. "Let’s have a ciggy, shall we?" She’d say. So we’d sit, with nothing else to do but smoke, watching the people walk Duval.
A drunken bearded man in a black dress riding a bicycle approached. When he got in front of us, he decided to stop by putting on his brakes and slowly falling over. Ana and I exchanged looks, neither of us busting out with laughter, but close. The man lay half on the street and sidewalk for awhile, then began to get up, wrestling with the bike and his dress and his intoxication in the fight to right himself vertically. It was a slow process.
His dress appeared to be of cheap satin (Is it called Crinoline?) that swished and crunched loudly as he rolled around the sidewalk. And unlike the drag queens, he didn’t wear makeup. But then, how could he, with that full, full beard he was sporting? I’m not sure he was even aware that we were several feet away the whole time.
Seconds turned into minutes turned into pathetic, and we decided to go inside by the time he began to fully stand. We watched some more from inside, as he smoothed his dress down and began walking in the direction from which he’d come, leaving his bike half on the street, half on the sidewalk.
3.My stalker, Simon – October 1993 to May 1994
God love him, this guy was a mess. He was obsessive, kinda creepy, not threatening, really, but he did provide some seriously unintentional comic gems during our stalker/stalkee acquaintance.
The first time we met, I was working at the smaller clothing store by myself one Saturday afternoon/evening. He came in, looked around a few minutes, and then began to ask me questions. No one was in the store, so he questioned further, then began telling me about the minutiae of his excruciating everyday existence. Painful to go through, I’m sure, but painful to listen to, as well.
No one came into the store, so I had no distractions and no course of action but to continue listening. After about 90 minutes, the manager of the other store called and I acted like he wanted me to close the store and go across the street to the other store, for a moment. So I finally got rid of him, for the meantime, for the first time, that day. He then began to show up at either store frequently, and consistently.
After I got fired from the clothing stores, I got a job bar backing and bar tending at One Saloon. Simon couldn’t find me, for a while, anyway. He spotted me one night, emptying glass bottles into one of the recycling bins at the front entrance of the bar. I saw him coming, mentally cussed for a moment, turned around, said hello, then went back to work.
Afterward, his visits became, once again, frequent and consistent. Sometimes he’d come in, sometimes not, content to speak with me by the garbage cans. Once in a while, my friend the bouncer wouldn’t let him in, just to fuck with his head. On my nights to bar tend, I usually worked the bar by the dance floor. It was a little slower volume-wise, and the other bartenders had seniority, so they’d take the two other, busier bars and leave that station to me.
But I was totally fine with arrangement. I loved the music, and could work at a little slower pace than when I’d bar back. And I was also first out, which meant I might get five or six hours of sleep that night, as opposed to my normal two and a half to four. My life consisted of nap time, twice daily, and work. Graphic design by day (10:00-5:00), bar staff at night (8:30/9:00-5:00), and in between, sleep.
The bar wouldn’t fill up until 10:30 or 11. Sometimes it was earlier on busy weeks, but at 9 when we opened, there was almost no one there. Few people came in earlier than Simon. The dance floor was fairly small, mirrored, had a continuous rail for drinks and ashtrays, and light and fog effects for the dancers. And it was empty, except for me and Simon, disco music blaring from the speakers as he awkwardly stared and/or mumbled.
The owners took operation of the bar seriously. One of them was the DJ on Mondays and Tuesdays, our busiest nights. On those nights, Simon would stand at the back of the dance floor 20 feet away, and lay out papers against the back wall of the floor, showing me proof that he’d done his homework. He went to school at Florida Keys Community College. He’d leave them out until people started filtering back to the back bar. Then he’d get very frantic, quickly pull the papers together, and rush out the back exit, all in a matter of 15 or 20 seconds. Just like his presence, his aftermath was puzzlement to all involved.
Sometimes, if I was behind the garden bar changing kegs or doing whatever, the bouncer would give me a heads-up that Simon was there by saying his name loudly. I’d stay hidden until he was convinced I wasn’t working that night. He was harmless, like I said, but some nights, I just couldn’t be bothered. It was a game, in a way. I never led this guy on, but I didn’t take his visits too seriously, either.
One night, as I worked at the garden bar, Simon came in, drank three cans of beer, and fell asleep in his seat, face-first on the bar, snoring somewhat softly. He said he’d been drinking earlier, so his passing out was of no surprise. The waiters from our sister establishment, La Trattoria Venezia, would usually sit at my bar after their shift, get very drunk, and leave lots of money. They were also great customers, very pleasant and fun to be around. Sometimes the bar would show gay porn on the televisions around the bar, and we’d make up hilarious, drunken dialogue to coincide with the action.
But on this one particular night, they were content to drink and laugh, humored at the sight of Simon sleeping and snoring and drooling at the end of the bar. I looked at the French girl, Coco, and said, "Watch this—SIMON WAKE UP!!" I screamed. He jolted and shook and panicked and ran out the door before he’d even woke up, laughter from the employees following him down Appelrouth Lane.
I didn’t see him for awhile after that. Evidently, I wasn’t the only one he was stalking. ___ said a friend of his found Simon in the gated driveway of his house, asleep on the gravel drive. And he’d follow other guy’s home, too, never threatening, just following or talking. Later, another friend told me he’d seen Simon being restrained then dragged, screaming, from the Red Cross blood drive.
4. November 1993 The cute insane guy would walk the streets all day, every day for awhile, holding a copy of some unexpected classic in paperback, saying very little ever, walking and stopping and staring. I’m not sure if he was homeless or not, as he stayed pretty clean despite the heat. And he was so damn cute! Really strong, handsome good looks, good hair, and (had he not been crazy) beautiful eyes. He wasn’t ill mannered or seemingly all that tortured, just not there.
My guess was assisted living via rich family. Out of sight, out of mind, fun in the sun, this sort of rationale. He left or disappeared maybe a month and a half later. I wish I could remember the name of that book. It gave me the impression he was really smart, but had crossed the line. I also got the feeling he read that book repeatedly.
5. September and October 1993 The owner of the ChitChat was quite demonstrative of his opinions. The sign outside the restaurant promised a two eggs, grits, and home-fries meal for 99 cents. The place was always busy, although I never met anyone who’d gone twice. The ChitChat was our first breakfast in our new home. The eggs sucked, the cream curdled the second it entered the coffee, and it was there that we realized Ben’s van had been towed, as it was visibly gone from where it had been parked. The waitress said, "Welcome to Key West."
Along with the restaurant, his property included a white stone wall along Duval Street. Whenever the urge his him, he’d spray paint different anecdotes to provoke thought, incite a riot, or some action in between from those reading his diatribes. I took a picture of one that said, "Surgeon General Jocelyn Elders: Tell the American people about "Agent Orange and AIDS serum"…When was it made??? By whom? "Well maybe I can help you" (1) July 7, 1976."
After awhile, he’d repaint the wall white, and then later, he’d spray paint something else.
6. September 1993 Ben and I listened to the Smashing Pumpkins’ "Siamese Dream" most of the way from Missouri to Key West and then until he left, three months later. I don’t know how many times we listened to it, but the number was close to 200. And I still don’t know the names of most of the songs and very little of the lyrics. But he really loved that CD.
7. _____ hated to go to the New Moon Saloon, but she would go if I repeatedly asked her. They had great burgers and wings, but they also had the worst service on the island. The bar was sunken, so the sitting patrons and bartenders were at eye level with the other. There were black velvet portraits on the walls of Miles Davis, Carly Simon, Jimi Hendrix, I think, and Sinatra or someone like him. There was always some kind of shit kickin’ rock and roll, boogie or blues, or metal blaring, much more for the bar patrons than the restaurant. And those Sixties or Seventies-era monolith comfort booths really hit the spot after a hard night of drinking.
But the service sucked so bad! On more than one occasion, the waiter or waitress was obviously more wasted than we were, seriously pissing _____ off. Also, there was this funked-out crack-head vibe about the place, as it was only one of a few 24-hour places in Old Town. Lots of weirdness, lots of druggy stares and behavior, from both the staff and clientele, and snippets of conversation that was, in any context, unsettling. Always.
Good wings, though.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Nibiru/Planet X/Wormwood picture gone from Google Earth Sky
This is not "proof," as the You Tube video claims, rather strong circumstantial evidence. Seeing that cropped out box is more than a little ooh-gy.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Earthquake Pattern?
Anonymous dude at Alien Earth ran across this disturbing little earthquake related tidbit.. Now, check out this perspective.. That's right; look up, then right, then look at the bottom. Connect those dots and you've got yourself the beginnings of one scary lookin' box..
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Have you seen.. This Man?
Found this quote from George Ure's awesome Urban Survival site:
"I take it you've seen that something in the predictive linguistics due to go viral here shortly is the story that thousands of people are having the same male figure appear in their dreams? If not, check www.thisman.org. Notice the face that seems to be popping up in people's dreams, got it?
Now...go flip to the Wikipedia page on Willie Sutton. Am I the only one to notice some kind of resemblance? Is there some kind of...you know....bank robber meme going around?"
This is an Economics website?
Urban Survival rates "awesome" by mixing easy to understand, conversational, gut-punch economics about the upcoming (soon, unfortunately/quite possibly) Depression Two with material on Quantum/Paranormal activity (most notably, the Web Bots), and the increasing intensity of global earth changes. And, with the introduction of this man to the site, his more conservative readers must wonder about his sanity, but for those of my ilk, "awesome" applies.
Ure has been spotting then writing on important economic trends and data long before the financial networks/media, and much longer than the Mainstream Media, who, in actuality, almost never broadcast any relevant trends or data. And it's not pretty. Massive debt, double digit declines in shipping numbers, the upcoming derivatives implsion.. None of it's good.
"I'm committed to connecting groups of dots, wherever possible." He says, on his site. He also connects dots within the realm of the (all encompassing term here) Supernatural. He is a thoughtfully organized Woo-Woo, presenting concepts not usually(Read: Ever.) found on any mainstream economics sites, and economic information and strategy for Conspiracy Weirdos and the Tin Foil Hat Set. He's logical, rational, and Wants-To-Believe. And he wants to warn you about the looming crisis in our collective immediate future.
I hope to hell George Ure's wrong about almost every economic thing he writes. Unfortunately I don't think he is.
"I take it you've seen that something in the predictive linguistics due to go viral here shortly is the story that thousands of people are having the same male figure appear in their dreams? If not, check www.thisman.org. Notice the face that seems to be popping up in people's dreams, got it?
Now...go flip to the Wikipedia page on Willie Sutton. Am I the only one to notice some kind of resemblance? Is there some kind of...you know....bank robber meme going around?"
This is an Economics website?
Urban Survival rates "awesome" by mixing easy to understand, conversational, gut-punch economics about the upcoming (soon, unfortunately/quite possibly) Depression Two with material on Quantum/Paranormal activity (most notably, the Web Bots), and the increasing intensity of global earth changes. And, with the introduction of this man to the site, his more conservative readers must wonder about his sanity, but for those of my ilk, "awesome" applies.
Ure has been spotting then writing on important economic trends and data long before the financial networks/media, and much longer than the Mainstream Media, who, in actuality, almost never broadcast any relevant trends or data. And it's not pretty. Massive debt, double digit declines in shipping numbers, the upcoming derivatives implsion.. None of it's good.
"I'm committed to connecting groups of dots, wherever possible." He says, on his site. He also connects dots within the realm of the (all encompassing term here) Supernatural. He is a thoughtfully organized Woo-Woo, presenting concepts not usually(Read: Ever.) found on any mainstream economics sites, and economic information and strategy for Conspiracy Weirdos and the Tin Foil Hat Set. He's logical, rational, and Wants-To-Believe. And he wants to warn you about the looming crisis in our collective immediate future.
I hope to hell George Ure's wrong about almost every economic thing he writes. Unfortunately I don't think he is.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Head hurts: Mind blown.
An explanation of the ten dimensions, via Tenth Dimension. I'm still having a hard time conceptualizing this fully. We, as Third Dimensional beings, aren't aware that we also inhabit (and operate within) increasingly complex dimensions simultaneously, all housed within the Tenth. We, then, are equivalent to sub-atomic particles in the most sophisticated organization ever created, ever devised. An entity that houses an infinity of infinities. Is your mind ripping apart yet?
Godlike took me there..
Godlike took me there..
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
CNN's HOAX on America - Real CNN Footage from 1991 "Gulf War"
I called bullshit on this war in 1991, and that opinion never changed. I didn't, however, think they("Mainstream Media") faked the news. After 18 years, this barely surprises, though it still disappoints. Courtesy of Above Top Secret.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Flashback: Winter, 1993
From Sense and Antisense:
Winter 1993
Vincent and I would drive around the island in his pickup. He, dropping off bags of weed here and there, me, along for the ride. We enjoyed each other’s company. He would get extra food when we’d order out, when I couldn’t afford it, because he felt I was losing too much weight.
Which, in reality, I was. I was not taking care of myself, working too much, and constantly popping ephedrine tablets. Ephedrine is one chemical ion away from being classified as a meth-amphetamine. Did you know that?I only found that out a few years ago, and not when I lived in Key West. I’m a little hyper anyway, and being strung out on ephedrine and caffeine did make me lose weight.
“Eat! Eat! You’re a growing boy!” He would say. Making me finish whatever he had ordered, taking care to insure I lost no more weight. He was very nurturing of me.
He was the first one at work to offer a friendly hand. That meant so much, as I was intimidated by the unfamiliarity of my new workplace. I was there as an apprentice. If I showed any promise or talent, my boss would hire me on. Which he eventually did, but at first, there was no such guarantee. But none of that mattered to Vincent.
I worked in silence those first couple of weeks, learning the photo-stat machine, how to use an exacto-knife, how to cut a rubylyth, and how to typeset. Simple procedures to someone skilled in graphics, but unfamiliar and difficult for me. So I worked quietly, doing what was asked, timid and unsure, praying for patient responses to the inevitable mistakes I kept making. He responded to every mistake and question with a smile.
He sold me weed. He kept me fed. He was patient and helpful. He was actively concerned about my well being. He came along at just the right time.
My dealer became my friend.
Winter 1993
Vincent and I would drive around the island in his pickup. He, dropping off bags of weed here and there, me, along for the ride. We enjoyed each other’s company. He would get extra food when we’d order out, when I couldn’t afford it, because he felt I was losing too much weight.
Which, in reality, I was. I was not taking care of myself, working too much, and constantly popping ephedrine tablets. Ephedrine is one chemical ion away from being classified as a meth-amphetamine. Did you know that?I only found that out a few years ago, and not when I lived in Key West. I’m a little hyper anyway, and being strung out on ephedrine and caffeine did make me lose weight.
“Eat! Eat! You’re a growing boy!” He would say. Making me finish whatever he had ordered, taking care to insure I lost no more weight. He was very nurturing of me.
He was the first one at work to offer a friendly hand. That meant so much, as I was intimidated by the unfamiliarity of my new workplace. I was there as an apprentice. If I showed any promise or talent, my boss would hire me on. Which he eventually did, but at first, there was no such guarantee. But none of that mattered to Vincent.
I worked in silence those first couple of weeks, learning the photo-stat machine, how to use an exacto-knife, how to cut a rubylyth, and how to typeset. Simple procedures to someone skilled in graphics, but unfamiliar and difficult for me. So I worked quietly, doing what was asked, timid and unsure, praying for patient responses to the inevitable mistakes I kept making. He responded to every mistake and question with a smile.
He sold me weed. He kept me fed. He was patient and helpful. He was actively concerned about my well being. He came along at just the right time.
My dealer became my friend.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Classic Gags For Everyday Funnies
I'm going through this comedic phase right now of walking backwards out of conversations. I find this to be hilarious, and my friends either like it or play along pretty well. Of course I copped it from The Simpsons. Anyone who even remotely knows me knows of my obsession with that show. This is, in my opinion, one of the best Homer gags ever. I just laughed thinking about it! Enjoy!
Monday, October 5, 2009
So What Do You Guys Do For Fun?
Assuming you have any spare time not devoted to: Running from buildings and avoiding falling debris from earthquakes, running inland from an earthquake-related tsunami, or running far inland(hopefully) from four tropical cyclones? These events didn't strike the exact same place, but they did all occur in the same region. The presence of four cyclones? Not so interesting, according to those interviewed, as the South Pacific is active this time of year. But the two earthquakes, major earthquakes.. happening on the same day(same twenty four hour period).. Well, that's interesting.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Weed's Great Week
1. "The Sickening Truth About Marijuana."
2. "ObamaCare Prepares for Marijuana Cigarette Distribution." Not entirely positive, but still.. Both articles from Pimpin Turtle. Great site, if you haven't checked it out, already..
2. "ObamaCare Prepares for Marijuana Cigarette Distribution." Not entirely positive, but still.. Both articles from Pimpin Turtle. Great site, if you haven't checked it out, already..
Monday, September 28, 2009
More On Sibel Edmonds
Two articles tonight from the stellar Brad Blog. Here's an update on the repercussions Sibel Edmonds' testimony is beginning to have on both parties. The immediate focus is, of course, the sexysexy lesbian angle, but when the corruption and possible arms-to-terrorists angle kicks in, that's when the real reporting fun begins!
Please.. STFU About ACORN, Already..
I should have easy access to this story, as I'll probably have to print it out in shove it in a loved one's face. I love him, but damn, he's Fox News dumb..
Friday, September 25, 2009
Bollywood, Curry, Finding Water On The Moon.. Is There Anything Indians Can't Do?
India's lunar mission finds evidence of water on the moon. NASA agrees.
Remember when it was crazy to think there might be water on Mars? Ahh, 2002.. So very, very long ago.
Science is about to make a quantum leap into the future. Are you ready?
Remember when it was crazy to think there might be water on Mars? Ahh, 2002.. So very, very long ago.
Science is about to make a quantum leap into the future. Are you ready?
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Spoofs? More Like Demolishes..
Kathy Griffin is Kate Gosselin on Lifetime! Not really, but she, and we, can dream..
Monday, September 21, 2009
Yeah, So What's This?
"Object the size of Jupiter recorded." And the size of the explosion? Much, much bigger than that.. The previous video ties into both Comet Holmes and Planet X here. although these are the most two interesting sentences in the whole thread: "The reason the Comet 17P/Holmes suddenly flared up is it moved into the electrical stream between our Sun and the anomaly. Known by its more sensational name as Planet X." ..Which might have something to do with the Hopi Prophecy regarding the Blue Star Kachina, with Comet Holmes as said Kachina. And the monster explosion in the first link is somehow tied to the RED Kachina, Blue's badass partner in this prophecy o' doom..
And it's all scheduled(at least by the conspiracy community) to go down starting next month (next week plus a few days..). So we got that to look forward to.. Which is nice..
And it's all scheduled(at least by the conspiracy community) to go down starting next month (next week plus a few days..). So we got that to look forward to.. Which is nice..
"Have you personally seen Bigfoot?" "Not Yeti.."
As seen in Poland. This Yeti looks a little too human in its postures, but maybe..
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Quantum Theory of Reincarnation
By Roger Ebert! Found at Entangled Minds. From Ebert's rationalist perspective, Of Course we are all reincarnated, as we all return to our sub atomic origins. Of course we are, we just won't remember any of it, and we will all be made into/made up of other things.
I think, though, there are ways to remember..
I think, though, there are ways to remember..
Monday, September 14, 2009
Tehran Seldom Seen..
What does Tehran, Iran look like, really? These pictures help.. And here's some cool shots from the Pre-Revolution 70's.. Ooh.. Easily the best examples here..
Iran: Really not the country you're led to believe it is.
What else about Iran might we not know?
Iran: Really not the country you're led to believe it is.
What else about Iran might we not know?
Welcome To The World Of Tomorrow!
"Poor Goofus! Can't he get ANYTHING right?" Funny comment, too, with link attached!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Flashback: The Pride of 1999
Friday, April 25, 2008
The Pride of 1999
“Do you have an opinion; a mind of your own? Well, I’ve run out of patience; I couldn’t care less…” Garbage, “Special.”
I’m really sure “gay” isn’t the right word for it… The music is loud, and his perception is distorted by the interaction of the multiple drugs he’s ingested. His eyes cause the other men dancing around him to slow down, float, and double. Anonymous hands and parts brush him, fueling his amphetamine bliss. His pupils are wide and he sees the answers he seeks, but it’s only fleeting, as the music and interaction takes him quickly elsewhere. He will only remember flashes.
His heart is strained from the cocaine cocaine. His mouth is dry and his penis flaccid. To the other men, he is so cool… as they neither know nor do they wish to know any more than the superficial. His package is a perfect cliche, the ultimate gay fantasy. He is proud, so fucking proud to know the cool bars and best drink specials and the "A-Gays” with their superior attitudes and the fabulous parties and the prettiest boys who always have the best drugs, their faces touched up with just a hint of the most expensive male makeup available.
Later, he has yet another anonymous hook-up with the hottest guy in the bar. The actual sex isn’t important, just the motions. He can drink more than the rest with the help of his choice of drugs. His jeans fit his ass so well. His family misses him, but they are far away now, of no concern.
The trick is rich, with a convertible and a condo by the park. He has done this many times before, also. He claims to be a model artist, but waits tables for the coke that rules him. Hours later, he wakes up, emotions and serotonin drained, the guilt he claims he doesn’t possess rears its head, and he leaves without getting the rich trick’s number. He knows he’ll see him again and they’ll date, because, in his delusion, he knows this is the one with which he’ll spend the rest of his life.
The next night at the beer bust, the rich trick doesn’t even look his way. He pretends to be shocked and devastated and justifies his latest binge with his latest heartbreak. His friends, family, and co-workers will pay the price in bitterness later for even attempting to give a shit. And he is so very proud. Yes he is.
He wonders why more people don’t like him. When he closes his eyes, the gnawing blackness overtakes his being, ever so slowly. His abyss has its very own soundtrack in the muffled beats of the club music he can barely remember. He finds a certain comfort on the dance floor, dancing with his shirt off with other tweaked shirtless boys he’s already fucked. They are all one great big ball of confusion all heading toward the same end.
Pride? You’re proud? Don’t you dare speak for me, pricks. I too, am gay, but not your way. There are others, who, like me, like and love ourselves more than that.
Clique-ism is not pride. “Community” is not alcohol or alcohol-establishment driven. Blind acceptance of stereotypical behavioral patterns is not pride. Investing all of one’s identity into sex and sexuality is not pride.
Will there ever be a parade for people like me? If there is, I’m sure there won’t be any drink specials.
Posted by Lance at 9:20 AM
The Pride of 1999
“Do you have an opinion; a mind of your own? Well, I’ve run out of patience; I couldn’t care less…” Garbage, “Special.”
I’m really sure “gay” isn’t the right word for it… The music is loud, and his perception is distorted by the interaction of the multiple drugs he’s ingested. His eyes cause the other men dancing around him to slow down, float, and double. Anonymous hands and parts brush him, fueling his amphetamine bliss. His pupils are wide and he sees the answers he seeks, but it’s only fleeting, as the music and interaction takes him quickly elsewhere. He will only remember flashes.
His heart is strained from the cocaine cocaine. His mouth is dry and his penis flaccid. To the other men, he is so cool… as they neither know nor do they wish to know any more than the superficial. His package is a perfect cliche, the ultimate gay fantasy. He is proud, so fucking proud to know the cool bars and best drink specials and the "A-Gays” with their superior attitudes and the fabulous parties and the prettiest boys who always have the best drugs, their faces touched up with just a hint of the most expensive male makeup available.
Later, he has yet another anonymous hook-up with the hottest guy in the bar. The actual sex isn’t important, just the motions. He can drink more than the rest with the help of his choice of drugs. His jeans fit his ass so well. His family misses him, but they are far away now, of no concern.
The trick is rich, with a convertible and a condo by the park. He has done this many times before, also. He claims to be a model artist, but waits tables for the coke that rules him. Hours later, he wakes up, emotions and serotonin drained, the guilt he claims he doesn’t possess rears its head, and he leaves without getting the rich trick’s number. He knows he’ll see him again and they’ll date, because, in his delusion, he knows this is the one with which he’ll spend the rest of his life.
The next night at the beer bust, the rich trick doesn’t even look his way. He pretends to be shocked and devastated and justifies his latest binge with his latest heartbreak. His friends, family, and co-workers will pay the price in bitterness later for even attempting to give a shit. And he is so very proud. Yes he is.
He wonders why more people don’t like him. When he closes his eyes, the gnawing blackness overtakes his being, ever so slowly. His abyss has its very own soundtrack in the muffled beats of the club music he can barely remember. He finds a certain comfort on the dance floor, dancing with his shirt off with other tweaked shirtless boys he’s already fucked. They are all one great big ball of confusion all heading toward the same end.
Pride? You’re proud? Don’t you dare speak for me, pricks. I too, am gay, but not your way. There are others, who, like me, like and love ourselves more than that.
Clique-ism is not pride. “Community” is not alcohol or alcohol-establishment driven. Blind acceptance of stereotypical behavioral patterns is not pride. Investing all of one’s identity into sex and sexuality is not pride.
Will there ever be a parade for people like me? If there is, I’m sure there won’t be any drink specials.
Posted by Lance at 9:20 AM
Meditation on Success
Success rarely arrives in the form one expects. Even rarer is the level of expectation to the ultimate level of Success. Remember, this is not necessarily negative, as a prediction might be exceeded by the end result. Remember also, that while Success can be measured by material gain, one's own Success is ultimately viewed and felt upon internal inspection, individually. When priorities are in closer alignment with spiritual concerns, Success is easier to define and less elusive than it's reputation implies.
Your concept of Success defines your life. You are a child of God's Universe. You are already a Success. Go ahead; Build on that!
Your concept of Success defines your life. You are a child of God's Universe. You are already a Success. Go ahead; Build on that!
"My God; It's Full Of Stars."
New pictures from Hubble. Article here. Money shots here.
Yeah, sure: Earth is the only planet in the Universe capable of sustaining or containing life. And it's only 6000 years old! See how silly that sounds when you read it on the page?
Yeah, sure: Earth is the only planet in the Universe capable of sustaining or containing life. And it's only 6000 years old! See how silly that sounds when you read it on the page?
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Dr. Hulda Clark, R.I.P.
An alternative medical pioneer passes on. Thanks for the information, Doctor. A lot of us really appreciate it.
Hello, Douchebag!
Your microphone is on! Another "Family Values Conservative" just couldn't help himself..
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Another Trip To Kadikchan
Someone documented a Russian Ghost Town. Why did they leave? Frozen pipes.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Choose: 1. Dream. 2. Astral Projection 3. UFO Travel to Venus. Take your time, new First Lady of Japan..
"It was a very beautiful place and it was really green." I had a similar experience. The atmosphere was orange, this location was called Charleston, and I felt/knew within the dream, that what we call UFO's were like mass transit. Maybe the equivalent to an urban bus system.
I didn't think of dream travel as travel the way the First Lady does, but of course, it could be.. Hmm. Last night, I went to Pakistan. But I don't know why.
I didn't think of dream travel as travel the way the First Lady does, but of course, it could be.. Hmm. Last night, I went to Pakistan. But I don't know why.
THE Scat Related Horror Story of the Week
This dude is obviously is not a fan of the Food Network.. Did anyone else almost gag while reading this? Wow..Wow.. I'm never going to his house for snacks..
Maybe They Were High..
Paraphrase of a Simpsons quote/exchange: The ironing is delicious! It's irony, Bart!
That's some good legal pot destroyin', Lou..
That's some good legal pot destroyin', Lou..
Friday, September 4, 2009
YACHT just released the best album of 2014..
I'm still loving The Antlers, but the latest release by YACHT feels like they're(he, really..) channeling The Future. It's like walking into a Disco on another planet. I like it a lot.
Film as AstroDrama?
When Jim Jarmusch's "The Limits of Control" came out earlier this year, it was met with roundly polarizing reviews (Don't forget to read the comments) It seems "..Limits.." will totally resonate with you, or you'll be pissed about losing two hours. This reviewer liked it, but within the framework of astrological symbolism represented by human characters and situations. I haven't been a huge fan of Jarmusch in the past (sadly, based on my inability to sit still through "Mystery Train," and only kind of liking "Night on Earth."), but I'll check this one out. With an open mind and more focus this time, of course..
Thursday, September 3, 2009
I love Chupacabra, and I hear it's making a come back! Oh, wait, that's Disco..
Dog, beast, or dogbeast spotted in Texas? Supposed video from CNN here, although I couldn't get it to load.. Wouldn't it be cool to see a Chupacabra/Mothman cage match? Joe Rogan could referee!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Hernando student lied about seeing Muslim student sit during Pledge, officials say
Girl Bully/Liar hides behind Patriotic lie rather than telling the truth. Right wing nuts believe Bully/Liar without verification(again). Bully/Liar's lies exposed (again). Right wing nuts look even more so. Bully/Liar then claims to be the "victim."
And the political circle of life is complete..
Bonus: The guy who wrote the Pledge of Allegiance here! Surprise!
And the political circle of life is complete..
Bonus: The guy who wrote the Pledge of Allegiance here! Surprise!
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
What has become of you, Coolio, my Coolio?
I find this sad. Wow.. what the hell happened to you, Coolio? "Fantastic Voyage" was one of the best songs of the early 90's, and "Gangster's Paradise" was one of the bigger songs of the decade. Again, what happened?
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Is there anything it Can't do?
Pot May Protect Brain From Booze. Maybe the booze lobby can come up with a "Binge Drinking Protects Brain From Pot" study.. Weed? Another Gold Star! Booze? Go sit in Time Out, please..
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Second Mexico City UFO Footage Released
Really strong confirmation regarding the May 22nd incident over Mexico City. Here's the same event filmed from a second location. Yeah, the video's in Spanish, but you'll get it..
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Icanhazcheezburger Round Up, August 25, 2009
My favorite here.
Fun stuff.
Love the expression..
Just seconds before..
Here, and here..
All from http://icanhascheezburger.com/
Funny site.
Fun stuff.
Love the expression..
Just seconds before..
Here, and here..
All from http://icanhascheezburger.com/
Funny site.
Artificial life will be created 'within months' as genome experts claim vital breakthrough
This creeps me out. While I'm all for technological advancement, I'm also aware of The Law of Unintended Consequences..
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Congratulations, Antlers! You just made the Album of the Decade!
I've heard some amazing music the last nine years, but "Hospice," by Antlers, is by far the best. A concept album about an abusive terminal cancer patient and her caregiver/boyfriend (According to the review.. I haven't quite grasped that on my own..) isn't a real fun pretext for music, but everything; every note, every second.. is perfect. Too heavy on the compliments? Not to me. Listen for yourself( Lala is located in the blue box to the right of the review. Hit "Play all" for the full experience..). Love it or hate it, you won't be able to be objective about it..
I've heard this album once, immediately ordered it, and have thought about it continuously for the last 24 hours. The level of creativity this group manifests is staggering. I'm now a fan. A true, ardent, over the top fan of Antlers. Thanks in advance for the amazing hours I'll spend with your work. I can't wait.
I've heard this album once, immediately ordered it, and have thought about it continuously for the last 24 hours. The level of creativity this group manifests is staggering. I'm now a fan. A true, ardent, over the top fan of Antlers. Thanks in advance for the amazing hours I'll spend with your work. I can't wait.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Glen Beck waves goodbye to the last remaining bit of his soul..
He's not awful because he (now) spouts Libertarian gibberish on Fox, it's the massive hypocrisy of having the script change on him, and him not missing a beat.. From a lickspittle NeoCon to New Libertarian Hope and No One Noticed! I've lost A LOT of respect for Ron Paul, who, in the course of the last two years, has been loony-tized, then deified by the likes of Beck. Paul could have easily called Beck on his hypocrisy, but hasn't. While I'd like to believe that Ron Paul is Above The Fray when it comes to Beck, a part of me now believes that Ron Paul is No Better Than The Others.. -BUT- How Ron Paul deals with Beck's douchebaggery is not in question. Beck's douchebaggery, though, is.
He reads scripts for lots and lots of money. He doesn't care what he says on camera. He doesn't care who he hurts, or what consequences might come from his actions. His cold and greedy heart has overwhelmed his underdeveloped conscience.
And that's why he's awful. And that makes me sad.
He reads scripts for lots and lots of money. He doesn't care what he says on camera. He doesn't care who he hurts, or what consequences might come from his actions. His cold and greedy heart has overwhelmed his underdeveloped conscience.
And that's why he's awful. And that makes me sad.
Kevin Martin predicts possible Cape Cod hit by Bill..
Dependent on that pesky western High that's baking the west and keeping Missouri/East cool and wetwetwet. If it doesn't move easterly fast enough to send Bill north when predicted, Bill just might slam into Cape Cod..
I've written about Kevin before, so I'll post his forecast just to see how accurate he is compared to these guys.. If his hurricane predictions are anything like his other severe weather forecasts, my money's on Kevin..
I've written about Kevin before, so I'll post his forecast just to see how accurate he is compared to these guys.. If his hurricane predictions are anything like his other severe weather forecasts, my money's on Kevin..
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
"Without obtaining any tissue from that person."
I guess DNA can lie, after all.. So, what about all those cases(past/present/future) whose decisions all hinge(d) on DNA evidence? Will DNA Evidence-decided trials have to be re-reviewed? If so, would our legal system gridlock nationally.. almost overnight?
And what of Forensic Science? Will the industry react and establish new criteria and methods for determination of authentic DNA? How sophisticated will the technological upgrade have to meet the new set of "acceptable standards?" How much will it cost nationally?
The cynical bastard in me says that none of this will happen. The industry will continue to preach the "Infallible DNA" line right up to the bitter end. Sad. I would really like to be wrong about this, but I don't think I am..
The scariest implication of DNA fabrication is "corruption of evidence." "Corruption" is an alteration or fabrication of forensic material in order to produce suspicion in any desired direction, by creator of said material. In other words: If "they" (whoever "they" may be)want you, they'll get you. And they can create the proof to prove your guilt. And that "you?" Could be anyone, including..
Yeah? Now how do you feel?
And what of Forensic Science? Will the industry react and establish new criteria and methods for determination of authentic DNA? How sophisticated will the technological upgrade have to meet the new set of "acceptable standards?" How much will it cost nationally?
The cynical bastard in me says that none of this will happen. The industry will continue to preach the "Infallible DNA" line right up to the bitter end. Sad. I would really like to be wrong about this, but I don't think I am..
The scariest implication of DNA fabrication is "corruption of evidence." "Corruption" is an alteration or fabrication of forensic material in order to produce suspicion in any desired direction, by creator of said material. In other words: If "they" (whoever "they" may be)want you, they'll get you. And they can create the proof to prove your guilt. And that "you?" Could be anyone, including..
Yeah? Now how do you feel?
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Real Unsolved Mysteries, Take One..
The Voynich Manuscript, the "Most Mysterious Manuscript in the World.." Illustrations of plants and flowers not found in nature, oblique astronomical drawings(some of which turn out to be very advanced scientifically), an undecipherable language(possibly two), and drawings of little nude people in trash cans. Scooby and Shaggy could smoke a million joints and still not figure this one out..
The Last Three Stories of What Will Be My Book..
This was me in a different life. I can't prove it, but I know. And somehow, this life is somehow connected to the present, although I'm not sure how, or why. So, here they are:
During/the end
They had arrived safely. The water was seasonably warm, and not uncomfortable. The waves rippled and crashed as they pushed the boat an acceptable distance onshore. The song of the insects was unfamiliar. The air was humid. Dread was eating the man, his nausea rising. He wondered why. Everything seemed to be fine.
They were preparing to build a fire and explore the immediate area when the attack started. The noise of landing had masked all other sounds, and the inhabitants of the island were upon them before they had a chance to organize a defense, as they had not accounted for such a situation. The ones that had survived the initial onslaught ran aimlessly, further away from their boat, their lives taken one by one. A few men made an attempt to re-launch the boat, but were killed before they got to the water.
The man’s dread was forgotten as he ran along the beach, but his crippling nausea remained, bile rising with every footfall. He ran parallel to the shore, the water only feet away. His breath was heavy from panic. After an acceptable distance, he reasoned, he would disappear into the tree line until the morning, then swim to the ship.He continued to run, loudly exhaling his fear, his mouth gulping the sea air. He veered towards the trees, his immediate safe harbor. Darkness and brush and unfamiliar Flora enveloped him as he decided to stop and rest and look back at what was left of the expedition. The man who had followed him into the trees noticed his shocked expression as he turned around to look. He knew his prey had not heard him follow, as fear had overwhelmed all but his instinctual, reflexive flight. The inhabitant fell upon him, and the deed was done. The man’s life had ended on this island unfamiliar.
Off shore, the ship was anchored in semi-shallow waters, its silhouette alone against the horizon. The lone occupant of the ship, the dog, paced and whined and cried, echoing the distant and occasional cries from the island. After awhile, the dog began to yowl, breaking the silence that had once again settled in over the area. After a period of no response, the dog once again became quiet, and laid down to wait.
Miles upon miles over the ocean, the man’s wife went about finishing her daily activities. Their son, not far away, was amusing himself, within her view. She watched him for a moment as he ran in circles. She smiled and called for him to follow, as it was time for them to go inside. She turned around again when she reached the doorway, calling to him, pulling on a creeping vine, silently breathing a prayer to God to watch over her husband.
Right before
…They worked in silence, making themselves and the smaller boat ready to embark. They rowed in unison, gently breaking the waves, cruising in quietly and deliberately, timid and un-announced. The tightness of his face reflected the pressure in his stomach as the sound of the waves striking the rocky beachhead intensified. They were arriving safely, but this was of no comfort. The warm wind chilled, heeding him to pay attention, to be…aware.
The sky was a navy blue sea of diamonds, shining brightly, coldly, and perfectly over the solid blackness of ocean below. The unseen already in motion, all was now in place. Events in the forefront could begin. And they did begin. At that moment, at that arc of realization, on this, the most visually beautiful night of his life.
Before
They could feel the land before they ever saw it. It had been days and days and days since there had been even a hint of coastline, islands on the horizon, humanity, fresh water, anything. Tonight, though, was different. Most of them were sleeping, or trying to, when a feeling of discontent or anxiety took over one of the men, who decided to rise and ease those feelings experienced by staring onto the endless horizon.
Landlocked people don’t understand how much reflective power a full sky of stars has on the ocean. Contrasts between light and darkness are interpreted on a different visual spectrum, so even after his vision had adjusted, the man still couldn't be sure to trust his eyes. He stood motionless, staring, for a few minutes, wanting more affirmation from the possible masses he saw southwest from their vessel. During the time the man was trying to analyze the sliding empirical evidence the night and the stars and the ocean offered, he was made aware of the tension in his stomach. The cause of his anxiety he mistakenly attributed to nervousness about future food supply, homesickness for his son, his wife, buildings and surroundings from his home city, the familiar comfort from his home shores, or the realization of the duration of this adventure, which was already much longer than intended. Land or not, the expedition was not even half over.
Consumed by these thoughts and analyses, he was slow to realize he was no longer alone. He looked to his left and right, and all were there, all staring southwest, all silent. The stars were shining brightly, and from that distance, the man swore he saw light, or movement. He was not sure if the others saw anything similar, but by the lack of commotion, talking, or excitement displayed by the men, he knew they all felt something…not right.
They had found it and it had already begun.
And yeah, that's the order I intended.
During/the end
They had arrived safely. The water was seasonably warm, and not uncomfortable. The waves rippled and crashed as they pushed the boat an acceptable distance onshore. The song of the insects was unfamiliar. The air was humid. Dread was eating the man, his nausea rising. He wondered why. Everything seemed to be fine.
They were preparing to build a fire and explore the immediate area when the attack started. The noise of landing had masked all other sounds, and the inhabitants of the island were upon them before they had a chance to organize a defense, as they had not accounted for such a situation. The ones that had survived the initial onslaught ran aimlessly, further away from their boat, their lives taken one by one. A few men made an attempt to re-launch the boat, but were killed before they got to the water.
The man’s dread was forgotten as he ran along the beach, but his crippling nausea remained, bile rising with every footfall. He ran parallel to the shore, the water only feet away. His breath was heavy from panic. After an acceptable distance, he reasoned, he would disappear into the tree line until the morning, then swim to the ship.He continued to run, loudly exhaling his fear, his mouth gulping the sea air. He veered towards the trees, his immediate safe harbor. Darkness and brush and unfamiliar Flora enveloped him as he decided to stop and rest and look back at what was left of the expedition. The man who had followed him into the trees noticed his shocked expression as he turned around to look. He knew his prey had not heard him follow, as fear had overwhelmed all but his instinctual, reflexive flight. The inhabitant fell upon him, and the deed was done. The man’s life had ended on this island unfamiliar.
Off shore, the ship was anchored in semi-shallow waters, its silhouette alone against the horizon. The lone occupant of the ship, the dog, paced and whined and cried, echoing the distant and occasional cries from the island. After awhile, the dog began to yowl, breaking the silence that had once again settled in over the area. After a period of no response, the dog once again became quiet, and laid down to wait.
Miles upon miles over the ocean, the man’s wife went about finishing her daily activities. Their son, not far away, was amusing himself, within her view. She watched him for a moment as he ran in circles. She smiled and called for him to follow, as it was time for them to go inside. She turned around again when she reached the doorway, calling to him, pulling on a creeping vine, silently breathing a prayer to God to watch over her husband.
Right before
…They worked in silence, making themselves and the smaller boat ready to embark. They rowed in unison, gently breaking the waves, cruising in quietly and deliberately, timid and un-announced. The tightness of his face reflected the pressure in his stomach as the sound of the waves striking the rocky beachhead intensified. They were arriving safely, but this was of no comfort. The warm wind chilled, heeding him to pay attention, to be…aware.
The sky was a navy blue sea of diamonds, shining brightly, coldly, and perfectly over the solid blackness of ocean below. The unseen already in motion, all was now in place. Events in the forefront could begin. And they did begin. At that moment, at that arc of realization, on this, the most visually beautiful night of his life.
Before
They could feel the land before they ever saw it. It had been days and days and days since there had been even a hint of coastline, islands on the horizon, humanity, fresh water, anything. Tonight, though, was different. Most of them were sleeping, or trying to, when a feeling of discontent or anxiety took over one of the men, who decided to rise and ease those feelings experienced by staring onto the endless horizon.
Landlocked people don’t understand how much reflective power a full sky of stars has on the ocean. Contrasts between light and darkness are interpreted on a different visual spectrum, so even after his vision had adjusted, the man still couldn't be sure to trust his eyes. He stood motionless, staring, for a few minutes, wanting more affirmation from the possible masses he saw southwest from their vessel. During the time the man was trying to analyze the sliding empirical evidence the night and the stars and the ocean offered, he was made aware of the tension in his stomach. The cause of his anxiety he mistakenly attributed to nervousness about future food supply, homesickness for his son, his wife, buildings and surroundings from his home city, the familiar comfort from his home shores, or the realization of the duration of this adventure, which was already much longer than intended. Land or not, the expedition was not even half over.
Consumed by these thoughts and analyses, he was slow to realize he was no longer alone. He looked to his left and right, and all were there, all staring southwest, all silent. The stars were shining brightly, and from that distance, the man swore he saw light, or movement. He was not sure if the others saw anything similar, but by the lack of commotion, talking, or excitement displayed by the men, he knew they all felt something…not right.
They had found it and it had already begun.
And yeah, that's the order I intended.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Oh...So Sweet in my Mouth..
And this ain't no damn fly in your chardonnay, neither. I'm feeling a little hillbilly today.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Lady GaGa: Hemaphrodite, Illuminati Puppet, or Both?
Two disturbing articles on fame's latest Superstar To Emerge From Nowhere.. This One(or, more likely, the ones surrounding her) knows controversy and she knows marketing. Team GaGa really knows the power of the visual. And so much "coincidental" symbology to boot..
Watching these two videos back to back in context of that information does give me pause. I'm not sure which one is creepier.
All of these symbols and references might be random and they might be totally benign. But.. everything else about her career trajectory seems so choreographed, so well executed for maximum impact, I hardly believe anything regarding her persona to be "random," or "accidental."
I will, in the future, look very differently at Lady GaGa.
Watching these two videos back to back in context of that information does give me pause. I'm not sure which one is creepier.
All of these symbols and references might be random and they might be totally benign. But.. everything else about her career trajectory seems so choreographed, so well executed for maximum impact, I hardly believe anything regarding her persona to be "random," or "accidental."
I will, in the future, look very differently at Lady GaGa.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Making Our Lives Better By Changing Karma
Robert Wilkinson writes yet another amazing article on his Aquarius Papers site..
Some samples: (Emphasis mine)
"Most limits arise from personal, social, or familial taboos and expectations, those reactions we formed at other times in our lives. These condition the personality in many ways, and bring about events that challenge us to choose our responses carefully and intelligently. That is karma. All significant events in our life challenge us to grow beyond old limitations so we can demonstrate our willingness to become our Higher Self. That is Karma."
And:
..Our successes also condition us, usually programming us to want more.
Thus we are a combination of programmed responses, attached to what we believe will bring us happiness, avoiding what will bring pain. The paradox of life is a peculiar mix involving many things which once brought us happiness eventually bring pain, and much of what once brought us pain led us into unknowns that yielded great happiness. If we choose to, we can grow tremendously through both types of experience, and find love, wisdom, power, and intelligence regardless of the outer condition.
And:
"If we willingly avoid looking at our power to choose to change patterns, then our lives stay stuck in past patterns until we are forced by circumstances to change. On the other hand, we can also choose to welcome unknown possibilities, moving into our potential to grow into higher awareness. That yields opportunities to become more skillful in applying our spiritual intelligence in our life, which in turn yields knowledge and understanding."
Please read this. It may change your life.
Some samples: (Emphasis mine)
"Most limits arise from personal, social, or familial taboos and expectations, those reactions we formed at other times in our lives. These condition the personality in many ways, and bring about events that challenge us to choose our responses carefully and intelligently. That is karma. All significant events in our life challenge us to grow beyond old limitations so we can demonstrate our willingness to become our Higher Self. That is Karma."
And:
..Our successes also condition us, usually programming us to want more.
Thus we are a combination of programmed responses, attached to what we believe will bring us happiness, avoiding what will bring pain. The paradox of life is a peculiar mix involving many things which once brought us happiness eventually bring pain, and much of what once brought us pain led us into unknowns that yielded great happiness. If we choose to, we can grow tremendously through both types of experience, and find love, wisdom, power, and intelligence regardless of the outer condition.
And:
"If we willingly avoid looking at our power to choose to change patterns, then our lives stay stuck in past patterns until we are forced by circumstances to change. On the other hand, we can also choose to welcome unknown possibilities, moving into our potential to grow into higher awareness. That yields opportunities to become more skillful in applying our spiritual intelligence in our life, which in turn yields knowledge and understanding."
Please read this. It may change your life.
O'Reilly vs. Amsterdam/facts/reality etc..
It's like he thinks no one listening will respond.. with verifiable facts!
Looks horrifying. Can't wait to go sometime.
Looks horrifying. Can't wait to go sometime.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Jimi Hendrix, Space Alien..
Jimi Hendrix was from Mars, possibly a walk-in, attracted UFO's to his live performances, and most awesomely, was saved from freezing during a blizzard by an eight foot tall alien. Jimi Hendrix, the American/Martian original.
These beliefs would be totally laughed off coming from a lesser individual, but Hendrix was in a category by himself. Hendrix played like no other, and his music still has a "parallel universe" feel to it. Yeah, he took a lot of acid, but so did Leary. So did McKenna. He was serious in his exploration of consciousness, and some of his "beliefs" might be manifesting today. So it doesn't strike me as odd that Hendrix were to ask "What planet are you from, pal?" Or that he meant it. Or.. that it might be true. Of the worlds he explored, anything is possible..
Two interesting (and very different)perspectives regarding his death are here and here.
These beliefs would be totally laughed off coming from a lesser individual, but Hendrix was in a category by himself. Hendrix played like no other, and his music still has a "parallel universe" feel to it. Yeah, he took a lot of acid, but so did Leary. So did McKenna. He was serious in his exploration of consciousness, and some of his "beliefs" might be manifesting today. So it doesn't strike me as odd that Hendrix were to ask "What planet are you from, pal?" Or that he meant it. Or.. that it might be true. Of the worlds he explored, anything is possible..
Two interesting (and very different)perspectives regarding his death are here and here.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Head Birther Debunked, Loses Last Fingerhold on Sanity, Flees to Israel.
Credible, much? Naw.. Not at all. And maybe, just maybe, Orly Taitz has a darker motive than "Patriotism.."
..So the next time you think that Crow is looking at you, it probably is..
They have advanced problem solving capabilities, and a grasp on estimating weights and measures. Is anyone else a little unnerved by these findings?
Nice Crow.. Just headed to my car, and I'll be on my way.. Feel free to stay put, and.. run!
Nice Crow.. Just headed to my car, and I'll be on my way.. Feel free to stay put, and.. run!
Wow, Really?
Gay to straight therapy doesn't work? Well, I'm.. not shocked. Not at all.
The only choice people have when it comes to being gay is whether they accept it (and themselves), or not. Period. No "Lifestyle Choice" is involved. None. If you're on board, cool. If not, Deal With It.
The only choice people have when it comes to being gay is whether they accept it (and themselves), or not. Period. No "Lifestyle Choice" is involved. None. If you're on board, cool. If not, Deal With It.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
No doom, just beauty..
30 Alternative Wonders of the World. When you're not looking around, it's easy to forget the world is this diverse, this beautiful.. Here's a reminder!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
WTF? Obama's birth certificate a fraud?
Oh.. The Kenyan one. Total FAIL. Problem is, the people who need to see this, won't. For fuck's sake, people: If you don't like Obama, find a sane way to express it. Your collective craziness is really stinkin' up the country.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Maybe it needs to be said again..
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Soon
"Out of the island, into the highway; past the places where you might have turned…"
-Vertical Horizon, "Everything you want."
A major part of growing up is learning to accept the fact that when something is gone, it’s gone. Job, old love, period of time, etc.
It’s over. Now move on.
The other part of the equation is learning to accept and embrace the circumstances and blessings of your present situation. Here you can stay. Because, after all, this is where you are. And this is where you belong.
I guess now I belong in Branson – again.
Posted by Lance at 9:44 AM
When I wrote this in 1995, my life was very different than now; less stable, less sure, less faith in the patterns of the universe. My confusion made life less than it could have been. But no, not really, as that period, easily the worst of my life, is the reason I am what I've become today. Devastating circumstances can strengthen as well as destroy. Don't forget that.
But these things take time. They take introspection. They take work. But mostly, they take patience; with others, with yourself. If you're in the middle of your own devastating circumstance, you might not believe things will ever get better. But believe me, they can. If you try.. So please try.
Be strong. We need you.
Soon
"Out of the island, into the highway; past the places where you might have turned…"
-Vertical Horizon, "Everything you want."
A major part of growing up is learning to accept the fact that when something is gone, it’s gone. Job, old love, period of time, etc.
It’s over. Now move on.
The other part of the equation is learning to accept and embrace the circumstances and blessings of your present situation. Here you can stay. Because, after all, this is where you are. And this is where you belong.
I guess now I belong in Branson – again.
Posted by Lance at 9:44 AM
When I wrote this in 1995, my life was very different than now; less stable, less sure, less faith in the patterns of the universe. My confusion made life less than it could have been. But no, not really, as that period, easily the worst of my life, is the reason I am what I've become today. Devastating circumstances can strengthen as well as destroy. Don't forget that.
But these things take time. They take introspection. They take work. But mostly, they take patience; with others, with yourself. If you're in the middle of your own devastating circumstance, you might not believe things will ever get better. But believe me, they can. If you try.. So please try.
Be strong. We need you.
Baja Earthquake
I'll let George Ure from Urban Survival explain why I'll be watching this closely..
"You're welcome to be as skeptical of our rickety time machine as you want, but if you would so kind as to click back to last week's Friday report here and scroll on down to where I told you...
"We should get a good hint whether that's still on tap since there's a temporal marker due August 3/4 with a largish earthquake (+/- a couple of days). What I'll be looking for will be something in the 6.5 in a populated area to a 7.0+ in an unpopulated area and decent headlining or maybe tsunami warnings. We shall see, non? "
And once you recall what I told you last Friday based on the predictive linguistics work of www.halfpasthuman.com, you will want to click over to the Reuters story about the 6.9 earthquake that just happened off Baja California.
Two important items: One: We should get another quake, possibly similar in size tomorrow (odds on that are relatively high) and since this is one of the temporal markers the time monks have been pointing to as 'notice this marker because if it hits, then it's 'game on' for the derivatives visibility showing up on or about August 22.
Don't say no one mentioned it to you in advance. We may not have more than two dimes to rub together, but we do own something of increasingly higher value: The future."
I read the latest Webbot report. Really tense, really evil, Really, Really scary. And, of course, I hope it's wrong.. about everything. Tomorrow, though, is a different picture. Let's see what develops.
"You're welcome to be as skeptical of our rickety time machine as you want, but if you would so kind as to click back to last week's Friday report here and scroll on down to where I told you...
"We should get a good hint whether that's still on tap since there's a temporal marker due August 3/4 with a largish earthquake (+/- a couple of days). What I'll be looking for will be something in the 6.5 in a populated area to a 7.0+ in an unpopulated area and decent headlining or maybe tsunami warnings. We shall see, non? "
And once you recall what I told you last Friday based on the predictive linguistics work of www.halfpasthuman.com, you will want to click over to the Reuters story about the 6.9 earthquake that just happened off Baja California.
Two important items: One: We should get another quake, possibly similar in size tomorrow (odds on that are relatively high) and since this is one of the temporal markers the time monks have been pointing to as 'notice this marker because if it hits, then it's 'game on' for the derivatives visibility showing up on or about August 22.
Don't say no one mentioned it to you in advance. We may not have more than two dimes to rub together, but we do own something of increasingly higher value: The future."
I read the latest Webbot report. Really tense, really evil, Really, Really scary. And, of course, I hope it's wrong.. about everything. Tomorrow, though, is a different picture. Let's see what develops.
Lohan gets a DWI: Worldwide press coverage. The former Saudi Ambassador to the U.S. is arrested for a "failed coup," and AGAIN, crickets..
Seems like a mighty big story to me. Why, oh why is there no coverage? Will we ever be able to trust our Muslim-controlled press?
Monday, August 3, 2009
Bailout 101
Xymphora finds a concise little article explaining the mechanics of The Bailout on a micro-economic level: One massively overpaid oil speculator(whose actions might have (read, probably did..) helped spike oil prices in 2008) that will receive a $100 Million Dollar B*O*N*U*S for profiting from spiking oil prices in 2008! (And yes, the repeat language was intentional..) Bonus? That fuckin' guy (and all his ilk) should be charged two dollars a gallon for every gallon sold to everyone in the U.S. for the entire year! Market manipulation effects all consumers, and future(if there ever is any--which is doubtful..) legislation should mirror those serious implications.
"Too big to fail," is turning into "Too big to regulate." and "Too big to give a shit about anything but the corporate bottom line."
Too bad for us.
"Too big to fail," is turning into "Too big to regulate." and "Too big to give a shit about anything but the corporate bottom line."
Too bad for us.
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