If there is such a thing as 'the best of all possible worlds,' then the only way to get there must be to try all possible ideas.
If so, Romney's on the right path.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Quote Of The Post
"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do."
Ralph Waldo Emerson: Self Reliance
Ralph Waldo Emerson: Self Reliance
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Paradigm Shit
How many of us could endure the shock of being confronted with the sure and certain knowledge that the safe, solid foundation upon which we've built our lives is nothing but a rickety scaffold, and that our conception of the world is merely a flimsy, paper thin facade before the stark reality that awaits us behind the stage.
I've been married five times, so I'm used to it. But even I was shaken to the core by revelations about our government which came into my hands a week ago.
One week! How can it be that only seven days have passed since my life was changed forever.
I was working on my blog at my usual research facility, during happy hour, when I was approached by a stranger. Clutching a sheaf of papers in his hands, he told me that he read my blog, and that he had secret government information that would "blow my mind."
I have to admit that I was astounded. Because, quite frankly, I didn't think that I had any readers- let alone ones with secret information. He told me that he needed the information he had to be made public. And that he feared for his life if it wasn't.
I took a closer look at this mysterious stranger. He was middle aged and the very definition of the word 'nondescript.' He could have been a teacher or a pharmacist, but he had a sort of skittish intensity that led me to believe either he was being hunted, or was off his medication.
He handed me the papers to read and we agreed to meet there the following night (at happy hour.) What he said as he left chilled me to my very soul.
"If you believe nothing else, know this: you're buying."
The papers I'd been given seemed to have government letterhead. Skeptically, I began to read. After a few paragraphs, I was in a cold sweat, and realized that I was holding dynamite. It couldn't possibly be true, but if it was, this guy and I were both in a lot of trouble. For what those papers revealed was a conspiracy so vast, that it encompassed both church and state. Almost every branch and department of government was implicated: the CIA, the FBI, NASA, NOAA, the military, and the American Zoological Society. A conspiracy lasting decades, and dedicated to one thing, and one thing only: getting a camel through the eye of a needle.
I needed to talk to my new friend, but I had to be sure that he wasn't just a nutbag peddling shit. I have a few contacts in government, but was only able to ascertain from my source that my informant had worked in some hush-hush capacity, and that I should "drop him like a hot potato" if I knew what was good for me. The thing was- I didn't know what was good for me. I not only avoided vegetables- I ran with scissors. And I was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.
We met at the appointed time and place, but he refused to talk until he had proof of my sincerity. Three rounds later, he started telling his story. I have not been the same since.
It seemed that my strange acquaintance was an archivist, privy to the history of the entire project, and passed over for promotion. That prompted him to steal the papers, and to try blow the whole thing wide open.
"The thing is," he said into his glass. "I can't get anyone to listen. I got kicked out of the Times, the Post. Even CNN said no, and their ratings are in the basement. I needed someone who would print anything." He looked up. "That's when I thought of you."
I was flattered, and said so, but I still needed a handle on this thing. What was it for, and how did it start?
"Don't you see," he said, signaling for another round. "All the rich religious guys in this country are worried about going to Heaven. You remember Mark 10:25?" he asked.
"Uh- I mean..."
"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God," he said smugly.
"O.K. right," I said. "But since when do those guys believe in the Bible?"
He snorted in derision. "Sure, they routinely ignore Jesus. But that's mostly the stuff about humility and charity. Things they can't relate to anyway." He looked hard at me. "Punishment and denial, though, that they understand.
"See, first they tried to game the system. Some of them left their money to their wives on their deathbed..."
"So technically they'd die poor?" I interrupted, confused.
"Exactly. One of them even got a really huge needle. Claes Oldenburg designed it, I think."
"So problem solved," I said.
"At first. But by the time Reagan was elected, Billy Graham started to say it was cheating. When Nancy's astrologer concurred, that was it. They pledged billions to find a solution."
Something didn't sit right. I needed clarity so I switched to vodka. Then it occurred to me.
"How could they possibly hide such a big commitment?" I said, a bit angrily. "That much money can't be hidden."
He smiled. "You can if you disguise it as something else. Remember the Strategic Defense Initiative?"
"Star Wars," I gasped.
"You didn't think they could really build a missile shield over the whole country, did you?"
He laid it out for me then. Chapter and verse.
Apparently, and not surprisingly, early experiments relied on brute force.
"They put a camel on one of those rocket sleds. You know? The kind they use to train astronauts? At the end of the track was some sort of funnel arrangement, pointed at the needle."
"Did that work? I asked.
He shook his head, and ordered another drink. "Camels don't squish."
He told me that by the nineties the most promising avenue appeared to be quantum physics.
One offshoot of superconducter research dealt with the behavior of matter called a Bose-Einstein condensate. It might prove to be the breakthrough they needed.
"You she," he slurred. "At absolute zero, matter- atoms- behave strangely. Liquids defy gravity, and, more importantly, seem to have no friction."
He giggled. " iss simple," he said. "All they haf do's cool liquid camel to abzloot zero, and pour it through the eye, and Koch brothers pour through de pearly gates."
I was giggling myself, when a thought occurred to me.
"How...how d'you liquefy a camel?" I managed to get out.
"Oh. They solved that wit' da rocket sled."
There was more, much more. But, for some reason, my notes become illegible at that point. My memories of the rest of that night are also gone. I fear that agents of the government have wiped part of my brain. And, since I have had no further communications from my source, I can only think the worst. My one hope is that telling this story will protect me. I also hope that he wasn't my only reader 'cause then I'm fucked.
I've been married five times, so I'm used to it. But even I was shaken to the core by revelations about our government which came into my hands a week ago.
One week! How can it be that only seven days have passed since my life was changed forever.
I was working on my blog at my usual research facility, during happy hour, when I was approached by a stranger. Clutching a sheaf of papers in his hands, he told me that he read my blog, and that he had secret government information that would "blow my mind."
I have to admit that I was astounded. Because, quite frankly, I didn't think that I had any readers- let alone ones with secret information. He told me that he needed the information he had to be made public. And that he feared for his life if it wasn't.
I took a closer look at this mysterious stranger. He was middle aged and the very definition of the word 'nondescript.' He could have been a teacher or a pharmacist, but he had a sort of skittish intensity that led me to believe either he was being hunted, or was off his medication.
He handed me the papers to read and we agreed to meet there the following night (at happy hour.) What he said as he left chilled me to my very soul.
"If you believe nothing else, know this: you're buying."
The papers I'd been given seemed to have government letterhead. Skeptically, I began to read. After a few paragraphs, I was in a cold sweat, and realized that I was holding dynamite. It couldn't possibly be true, but if it was, this guy and I were both in a lot of trouble. For what those papers revealed was a conspiracy so vast, that it encompassed both church and state. Almost every branch and department of government was implicated: the CIA, the FBI, NASA, NOAA, the military, and the American Zoological Society. A conspiracy lasting decades, and dedicated to one thing, and one thing only: getting a camel through the eye of a needle.
I needed to talk to my new friend, but I had to be sure that he wasn't just a nutbag peddling shit. I have a few contacts in government, but was only able to ascertain from my source that my informant had worked in some hush-hush capacity, and that I should "drop him like a hot potato" if I knew what was good for me. The thing was- I didn't know what was good for me. I not only avoided vegetables- I ran with scissors. And I was determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.
We met at the appointed time and place, but he refused to talk until he had proof of my sincerity. Three rounds later, he started telling his story. I have not been the same since.
It seemed that my strange acquaintance was an archivist, privy to the history of the entire project, and passed over for promotion. That prompted him to steal the papers, and to try blow the whole thing wide open.
"The thing is," he said into his glass. "I can't get anyone to listen. I got kicked out of the Times, the Post. Even CNN said no, and their ratings are in the basement. I needed someone who would print anything." He looked up. "That's when I thought of you."
I was flattered, and said so, but I still needed a handle on this thing. What was it for, and how did it start?
"Don't you see," he said, signaling for another round. "All the rich religious guys in this country are worried about going to Heaven. You remember Mark 10:25?" he asked.
"Uh- I mean..."
"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God," he said smugly.
"O.K. right," I said. "But since when do those guys believe in the Bible?"
He snorted in derision. "Sure, they routinely ignore Jesus. But that's mostly the stuff about humility and charity. Things they can't relate to anyway." He looked hard at me. "Punishment and denial, though, that they understand.
"See, first they tried to game the system. Some of them left their money to their wives on their deathbed..."
"So technically they'd die poor?" I interrupted, confused.
"Exactly. One of them even got a really huge needle. Claes Oldenburg designed it, I think."
"So problem solved," I said.
"At first. But by the time Reagan was elected, Billy Graham started to say it was cheating. When Nancy's astrologer concurred, that was it. They pledged billions to find a solution."
Something didn't sit right. I needed clarity so I switched to vodka. Then it occurred to me.
"How could they possibly hide such a big commitment?" I said, a bit angrily. "That much money can't be hidden."
He smiled. "You can if you disguise it as something else. Remember the Strategic Defense Initiative?"
"Star Wars," I gasped.
"You didn't think they could really build a missile shield over the whole country, did you?"
He laid it out for me then. Chapter and verse.
Apparently, and not surprisingly, early experiments relied on brute force.
"They put a camel on one of those rocket sleds. You know? The kind they use to train astronauts? At the end of the track was some sort of funnel arrangement, pointed at the needle."
"Did that work? I asked.
He shook his head, and ordered another drink. "Camels don't squish."
He told me that by the nineties the most promising avenue appeared to be quantum physics.
One offshoot of superconducter research dealt with the behavior of matter called a Bose-Einstein condensate. It might prove to be the breakthrough they needed.
"You she," he slurred. "At absolute zero, matter- atoms- behave strangely. Liquids defy gravity, and, more importantly, seem to have no friction."
He giggled. " iss simple," he said. "All they haf do's cool liquid camel to abzloot zero, and pour it through the eye, and Koch brothers pour through de pearly gates."
I was giggling myself, when a thought occurred to me.
"How...how d'you liquefy a camel?" I managed to get out.
"Oh. They solved that wit' da rocket sled."
There was more, much more. But, for some reason, my notes become illegible at that point. My memories of the rest of that night are also gone. I fear that agents of the government have wiped part of my brain. And, since I have had no further communications from my source, I can only think the worst. My one hope is that telling this story will protect me. I also hope that he wasn't my only reader 'cause then I'm fucked.
Friday, April 20, 2012
A Thug By Any Other Name
In order to defeat the Republicans, we must understand them. Since their actions and policies seem to be immune to any sort of logic or reason, we can at least try to work out their organizational structure.
The conserva-nostra is a shadowy, secretive, ruthless organization, powered by billions of dollars of corporate loot. But my question is: how do you tell the henchmen from the minions? A partial list follows.
Karl Rove- Your classic henchman. Sure, you can't imagine him actually cutting any throats with those soft, pudgy hands, but you know he'd approve of it. He also seems to be content to stay near the top without trying to take over; something henchmen are known for.
Ann Coulter- Henchman. (and throat-cutter)
Rick Perry- Minion who thinks he's a henchman with a chance to be Boss of Republicans. The Fredo of the Republican Party. Also useful for getting rid of coyotes.
Sarah Palin- Comic Relief who also thinks she can be Boss. (Probably doesn't know what henchmen and minions are anyway.)
Conservative Commentators- You could just say they're the spawn of the Devil, and leave it at that. But I like to think of each and every one of them as a cute, cuddly, little Goebbels Baby.
That's it for now. I realize this list barely scratches the surface, but you gotta start somewhere.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Conservative Is Bliss
I have a habit of flipping channels, and, it so happens that Fox News sits between SyFy and 'The Big Bang Theory' reruns. So, as I thumbed my remote, I just happened to hear Sarah Palin explain that President Obama is the head of "the administrative branch" of the federal government.
Now, while everyone runs off to update their copies of the constitution, I am going to amputate those damned thumbs.
Now, while everyone runs off to update their copies of the constitution, I am going to amputate those damned thumbs.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Campaigning Is Easy. Math Is Hard
Newt Gingrich bounced a $500 check to get into the Utah primary.
He only had to sell ten photos of himself to cover it.
Yet, somehow, he came up short.
Go figure.
I mean it. Someone go figure out how to balance a fucking checkbook.
I'm sure we can still trust him on the economy though.
Congress writes the checks, not the president.
He only had to sell ten photos of himself to cover it.
Yet, somehow, he came up short.
Go figure.
I mean it. Someone go figure out how to balance a fucking checkbook.
I'm sure we can still trust him on the economy though.
Congress writes the checks, not the president.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
The (un) Music Man
Mitt Romney has taken a lot of heat for being politically tone deaf. He likes to fire people, he makes big bets, he doesn't worry about the poor and don't forget that tree height fetish. Well, I can't say that it has bothered me, in fact, it makes my job that much easier. But anyone who's heard him sing knows he's literally tone deaf as well, and that spells trouble. (With a capital T that rhymes with D that stands for Dems.)
You might think that Mitt's tin ear would be good for the Democrats. We've all seen the president rock with Mick Jagger and croon some R&B to Al Green. What could be better than that kind of contrast, you ask? Let me tell you.
Most of us can't sing. We don't admit it, and we don't talk about it, but few of us could hit a note with a shotgun, or carry a tune in a tote bag. It's common knowledge that people vote for the candidate they would be comfortable hanging out with, perhaps even having a beer with. I don't know about you, but after knocking back a few at my favorite pub, there's nothing better than singing some songs from the "auld sod" that would make your average Englishman run and hide. And, while we get points, (and citations) for volume- none of us can really sing, and we'd be mightily pissed at anyone who showed us up with a good voice. Mitt would fit right in on that score. Of course, he doesn't drink, and he's Mormon, so he wouldn't be welcome anyway- but I think I've made my point: Barack Obama is part of the melodically elite- the lyrical one percent, if you will.
This election could be very close. If the musically challenged have their way, Obama is gonna be singing the blues.
You might think that Mitt's tin ear would be good for the Democrats. We've all seen the president rock with Mick Jagger and croon some R&B to Al Green. What could be better than that kind of contrast, you ask? Let me tell you.
Most of us can't sing. We don't admit it, and we don't talk about it, but few of us could hit a note with a shotgun, or carry a tune in a tote bag. It's common knowledge that people vote for the candidate they would be comfortable hanging out with, perhaps even having a beer with. I don't know about you, but after knocking back a few at my favorite pub, there's nothing better than singing some songs from the "auld sod" that would make your average Englishman run and hide. And, while we get points, (and citations) for volume- none of us can really sing, and we'd be mightily pissed at anyone who showed us up with a good voice. Mitt would fit right in on that score. Of course, he doesn't drink, and he's Mormon, so he wouldn't be welcome anyway- but I think I've made my point: Barack Obama is part of the melodically elite- the lyrical one percent, if you will.
This election could be very close. If the musically challenged have their way, Obama is gonna be singing the blues.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Quotes Of The Post
"A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people"
Thomas Mann
"Comedy and horror are opposite sides of the same coin. I have the heart of a child. I keep it in a jar on my shelf."
Robert Bloch (author of the novel Psycho, among other things)
Both quotes from The Writers Almanac, writersalmanac.publicradio.org
Thomas Mann
"Comedy and horror are opposite sides of the same coin. I have the heart of a child. I keep it in a jar on my shelf."
Robert Bloch (author of the novel Psycho, among other things)
Both quotes from The Writers Almanac, writersalmanac.publicradio.org
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