Monthly Archives: December 2016

We Do Not Live in “Post Truth” World, We Live in a World of Lies and We Always Have

We’re conditioned to lies, as a society. We accept ads and even follow up on some of their lying premises and promises. We vote for blatantly lying, cheating, thieving, grafting, politicians. We continue to fill churches and mosques run by liars and thieves on behalf of non-existent deities and even when we don’t believe in such, we defend the rights of these liars to spew their right-winged bile across the nation and the world. And we continue to use the products of life-destroying corporations such as Monsanto; we continue to allow Big Pharma and a for-profit only medical system to pump our children full of deadly vaccines and drugs. That is the result of brainwashing, and that is why we prefer fake news to the truth because the truth makes us look and feel bad, and in our fast disappearing world of entitlement, to feel bad is bad, never a call to change.

Tales from the Conspiratum

Source: We Do Not Live in “Post Truth” World, We Live in a World of Lies and We Always Have

With permission of

http://www.counterpunch.org

Photo by Ged Carroll | CC BY 2.0

Photo by Ged Carroll | CC BY 2.0

We do not live in a “post-truth” world, neither in the Middle East nor in the West – nor in Russia, for that matter. We live in a world of lies. And we always have lived in a world of lies.

Just take a look at the wreckage of the Middle East with its history of people’s popular republics and its hateful dictators. They feast on dishonesty, although they all – bar the late Muammar al-Gaddafi – demand regular elections to make-believe their way back to power.

Now, I suppose, it is we who have regular elections based on lies. So maybe Trump and the Arab autocrats will get on rather…

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A Few Ayn Rand Quotes…

A few Ayn Rand Quotes to round off this great season of good wishes and no fundamental change  

Some pertinent quotes from “America’s Sweetheart”  and what a darling of what “made America great” she was.  It’s really too bad that her atheism prevents her gaining a position of sainthood.  Ah well, give it time. Someone will get around that little hurdle.

To the quotes then:

Nobody has ever given a reason why man should be his brother’s keeper.

The best aspect of Christmas is the fact that Christmas has been commercialized.

What I am fighting is the idea that charity is a moral duty and a primary value.

To love money is to know and love the fact that money is the creation of the best power within you.

Money is the barometer of a society’s virtue.  (Somehow, I can’t disagree with her on that one.)

You know, I think that only if one feels immensely important can one feel truly light.

There is no such thing as a lousy job – only lousy men who don’t care to do it. (I guess she never worked in a sweat shop, or on a chain gang.)

Run for your life from any man who tells you that money is evil.  That sentence is the leper’s bell of an approaching looter.  (That’s why the richer you get, the less taxes you get to pay.)

When I die, I hope to go to heaven, whatever the hell that is. (I doubt that even hell would want her.  I can only imagine her spirit haunting the empty bank vaults of the earth.)

The Christmas trees, the winking lights, the glittering colours-provide the city with a spectacular display, which only ‘commercial greed’ could afford to give us.

Capitalism and altruism are incompatible; they are philosophical opposites; they cannot coexist in the same man, or in the same society. (I totally agree with that.)

Any white person who brings the element of civilization has the right to take over this continent.  (Would that be any indication that America’s sweetheart was a white supremacist?)

The question isn’t who is going to let me: it’s who is going to stop me.  (Well, death stopped her and even the most die-hard predatory capitalists are questioning her most ardent philosophy in support of raw greed – so, a dead boast.)

No human rights can exist without property rights. (…and on the flip side, she’s right again.)

Businessmen are the one group that distinguishes capitalism and the American way of life from the totalitarian statism that is swallowing the rest of the world. (and the difference being?) 

According to the Christian mythology, Christ died on the cross not for his own sins but for the sins of the non-ideal people.  (Who then, died for the sins of the ideal people?)

Even if smog were a risk to human life, we must remember that life in nature without technology, is wholesale death. (America’s sweetheart was obviously not a great or keen observer of nature.  But she does make us aware of what technology is good for: making pollution an acceptable and necessary adjunct of capitalism.)

The person who loves everybody and feels at home everywhere is the true hater of mankind.  (A psychiatrist would ask someone making such a statement, “Do you think you might suffer from insanity?”  To which she would reply, “Oh no, doctor, it’s no hardship, I thoroughly enjoy it.”)

For those who wonder why I call Ayn Rand “America’s sweetheart” or even who Ayn Rand was, you may find the following “New Republic” article helpful:

“Ayn Rand and the invincible cult of selfishness on the American right”

https://newrepublic.com/article/69239/wealthcare-0

(But don’t be mislead by the title, the “cult of selfishness” is equally invincible on the American left, or on what’s left of America)

 

The True Legacy of Living on Time

                     [thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

      I have seen immortality.  I have sensed it bouncing from the walls of time, and in my mind when I broke free from the induced trance and looked back, I have seen what the actual world of the immortals looks like.  It is a terrible thing to behold. 

     The following is an attempt at explaining how “time” came about; why we are trapped in its effects and why it makes us feel death.  

This is but an illustration:
    In the endless expanse of what is called space, one can look in every imaginable direction.  One can travel every conceivable type of path to every conceivable place.  When I looked in the direction I had wrenched my thoughts from, I saw a square box floating lazily in space, turning slowly, it’s surface glinting as mother-of-pearl but harshly (by comparison to other events out there) when light touched its surface.  That square box is what is known as the world of the immortals, or the gods.  It is the Time Lords’ artificial creation, or construct.  It is this universe and there is but one single purpose for its design: to control the flow of life by trapping energy and imprisoning the minds of sentient life forms within it.  Sentience is what they feed on.  If this universe is correctly measured in time at 14 billion years, then that is how long these entities have been “eating” life in this universe.   

    Way back before time, the entities we call “Time Lords” did not have such a baleful title then.  They came together as they traveled through the cosmos and came to believe themselves as the most powerful beings extant, therefore believing themselves entitled to guide creation.  Their concept, which Earthians so well know, was to develop a way of absolute control over the flow of life.

    When they discovered they could exert little control over the open Cosmos, and such control kept breaking up, they invented a system which they called “time” and everything within their system became bound by time.  To the Time Lords (TL’s) nothing that exists outside time is real.  Their invented reality depends entirely on time, using time to control space.

    In the beginning, before the “box” became a completely closed system, energy from the Cosmos flowed in and through the box relatively freely.  That is why you can still see events within the box that resemble those outside: revolving units of stars, gaseous clouds, galaxies, and you can sense that you belong within something called “the universe” but with a definite sense that such is “bound” to a return loop with a beginning and an end.  Seen this way it is easier to understand why “we” would “see” the beginning of this universe as a “big bang” event and why we can also predict the end of the universe.  These are not natural, but artificial events we are measuring and looking at.  

    You see, in order to control all events, from beginning to end, the “box” or “Time Universe” had to be closed off from new thoughts; from “infection” of radical free ideas floating freely through the cosmos.  To counteract their loss of infinite life the TL’s invented what they called “immortality” or the idea that physical / material bodies could be kept alive quasi-forever. 

    In infinity, the concept of immortality is meaningless as life flows in and out of things freely, unbound.  Infinity is an open-ended concept.  Immortality however, bears a major flaw:  the TL’s were about to discover the deadly effects of something that happened as an effect of an energetic closed system: the problem of *entropy.  What our time-trapped minds call “death.”

      It is true that no energy can be gained or lost within the time system.  It can only be manipulated until such “end time” when the system reaches its inevitable state of *entropy, the death of a closed system when all of its available energy has been converted and all movement ceases.  That is the eventual demise of the prison of time which will cause the dissolution of the Time Lords themselves.  When their power ends, they end, for they have inextricably bound themselves to their concept in order to control it and they can no longer escape it.

     Obviously, they did not know this in the beginning, prior to their madness, or they chose to ignore whatever warnings they may have received.  Just as obviously they are doing everything in their power to prevent this end.  How do I know this?  I was taught a very handy rule about how things work: observe and think, as below, so above.  All I need do is observe how this world’s major empires drive themselves into perdition in a vain attempt to hold on to their global hegemony; to their claim to the lion’s share of this world’s resources, read: energy.  A prime example of this today, the United States of America and its satellite slave states, particularly Canada, much of Europe, Israel and Australia.  This empire is drowning in a sea of debt, dwindling natural resources and anthropocentric climate change which it insists on denying.  To counter this deadly entropy it does what all great empires of the past were forced to do: launch more and more wars against a world that it has turned into an enemy.  The empire and its satellites now exist in a permanent, life denying state of war against nature and against all of humanity. Those wars will only end when the empire’s alliances break apart and it dies.   

     So it is in the universal empire of the Time Lords.  Their “security state” energy shields will break down from entropy.  Their kingdoms, their great halls, their heavens and their hells — all will “freeze over” to be re-absorbed as energy and transformed.  The great universal empire will break apart in truly apocalyptic events, turning itself inside-out and everything in its prisons, including its trillions of sentient slaves, will be released to re-discover freedom once again.  

“Time not important, only life important!” (The Fifth Element)”

“If you really want to stay the same age you are now, forever and ever, she’d be thinking, try jumping off the roof: death’s a sure-fire method for stopping time.” (The Year of the Flood, Margaret Atwood)

“…Because today we live in a society in which spurious realities are manufactured by the media, by governments, by big corporations, by religious groups, political groups. So I ask, in my writing, What is real? Because unceasingly we are bombarded with pseudo-realities manufactured by very sophisticated people using very sophisticated electronic mechanisms. I do not distrust their motives; I distrust their power. They have a lot of it. And it is an astonishing power: that of creating whole universes…”  Philip K Dick, “How to Build a Universe That Doesn’t Fall Apart Two Days Later,” 1978.

*Entropy:  a process of degeneration marked variously by increasing degrees of uncertainty, disorder, fragmentation, chaos, etc.; specif., such a process regarded as the inevitable, terminal stage in the life of a social system or structure – entropy always increases and available energy diminishes in a closed system, as the universe. (Webster’s dictionary)

Interplanetary Intercourse

“You know our first navigator’s got to be a girl who will—”
“She will be,” Rydra said. (Babel-17, Samuel R. Delaney)

I’m not asking the world be sane,
Pointing at his naked loin, she says,
nor am I asking you be either:
That would be complete waste.
All I want now is sex from you,
Great sex, if you can manage.
She fondles him, watches him grow:
It has potential, much, I like.

In turn he ogles her, full taut nipples
Pushed out from cone-shaped breasts,
Pointing to either side of his face.
With hungry fingers he reaches,
Touching, rubbing, twisting lightly
Keeping his eye on that serene face
And on her legs: they were swift,
And deadly, the Martian women.

But she said, she liked.  It was
What they’d call on earth, an omen.
She wouldn’t hurt him, her desire
Would rule her movements and
It was for him at the moment. Yet
I am insane, she knows, he thought
To enter the Martian’s cabin, naked.
What will she do, once done with me?

Fear washes pale beneath red lust,
Ask her, it said, ask her, before
You bed her and she takes your mind.
Is she a member of the stranglers?
Would she kill him to complete
Her needed orgasm before orbit?
He’d heard some needed it,
It opened their minds to space
It’s how they became navigators
So went the myth, never dispelled. 

Bullshit, he hears himself say,
She’s just a woman, needy like me
Naked, like me.  In lust like me. 
He reaches his muscular arms
Full around her slim, firm waist
Draws her tightly to himself,
His breathing loud, his heart a hammer
His chest pushes against her
He enters her and both scream.

Ah, best I’ve ever had, he hears.
Are they his words, in his head
Unrehearsed – is he alive then?
They are her words from her lips:
Alive, unrehearsed, spoken to his ear.
You please me immensely earth man,
You live for me. I’ll want you again.
Now I must connect to navigation:
We depart, quick, do not say a word,
I mark you, I find you, later.

 

Why don’t we get to choose our life?

[thoughts from   ~burning woman~  by Sha’Tara]

Why don’t we get to choose our life?  Come on, is there a more legitimate question than that?  What’s more important than one’s life?  If one’s life is the most important thing one can experience “in life,” how can it be that given a certain age, we are not faced with that choice, literally forced to make such a choice knowing society and civilization will hold us accountable for that choice throughout all future interactions with it?

There is something really strange I find living on this world, in this society, and that’s how little people value the human aspect of their own children.  As property you find much attachment, but as raising responsible individuals who must soon make personally and socially impacting life choices?  Not only do they not bring them up to face the inevitability of having to live a personal life filled with responsibilities entailing consequences that will follow them to their dying day, but they so easily abandon them into the hands of strangers and institutions without really caring about what they are being taught, what they are learning and how that will affect their future life as human beings.  If they seem to care at all, it’s whether the children are equipped to get a job, a profession and will it guarantee a good income.  In short, will they be able to cut it in the rat race?   Values? Ethics? Virtue?  Honor?  Duty?  Trustworthiness? Even temperance or decency?  Not a high priority are they, and how could they be when the leaders themselves are never held to such standards?

Of course that reflects on how the parents themselves were raised; what their values were, and if they had any beyond the previously mentioned: success and money, or maybe for variety, money and success?  And if that didn’t pan out too well, satisfied they didn’t end up making a career of crime and jail time, or securing a permanent position on social welfare.

Obviously, as far as I’ve observed and experienced, nobody gets to choose their own life; they just tumble into some corner or hole society leaves open or unguarded for a moment.  They stand there, leaning on the wall, looking at surrounding walls and wondering, year after year, what comes next; wondering when the next shoe is going to drop if whatever check is going to be enough to fake it through another month.

This is how it all started for me too; I wasn’t anything special.  As soon as “official” grade school began I was installed on the see-saw, severely warned to get those best grades.  Competition was the name of the game, and winning was everything.  I should point out here that as much as “they” tried later with applied political correctness to guarantee everybody a top mark, they still haven’t figured out how in a competitive system everybody can be the best and walk off with the highest mark.  It’s a terrible dilemma, isn’t it.  But I’m sure some Mensa brain is bound to figure it out without violating the first rule of competitive bidding for a dwindling job market: dog eat dog.  Meanwhile everybody is shoved into the brainwash machine and fed the Brave New World belief: “Everybody, believe you can be top dog, and you will be…” Slosh, slosh; slosh, slosh, goes the Big Brainwashing machine everywhere on the planet, 24/7, running full bore in deep wash cycle.

So, back to the original question: what if we got to choose our life or put another way, our purpose in life?  What if we had to sign some societal contract based on wisdom and knowledge handed down through our family generations and our society, dutifully held on to and practiced by our parents, extended families, neighbours, friends, business people, government representatives, religious leaders and so on? 

What if we got to choose our life’s purpose based on the very best that a human society can offer and demonstrate?  How would that be for a start to a young adult’s life, say at the age of sixteen?  Where would we stand?  Would one be able to stand up in any year thereafter, in front of one’s class, or in church or at a community or union meeting, or when accepting a political or other high office, and say, “Thanks to the examples of my parents, siblings, teachers, peers, leaders, co-workers, today I can truthfully say that I understand what it means to be a member of the human race and I have demonstrated those qualities in my life since I chose, and agreed, to do so within this society”? 

And could the community truthfully respond with its own mantra: “We as a people declare this to be an inalienable truth, that inasmuch as it rests within our power as a people to live thus, we have caused no harm to come to any life, or to our world, nor shall we allow such to happen in the future.  By this choice we declare and claim today that we are true human beings”?

I always wonder about things like that.  Seems simple enough to me and I’m thinking, if I can live like that, and I observe that it’s a good thing, why wouldn’t everybody else want to do the same?  And if they do want to live thus, why don’t they?  Why not just stop following stupid and acting stupid?  

Let’s see, where should we begin?   

 

A Star Dancer Speaks

Have you ever wondered what “listening to the voices of the dead” and “hearing the music of the spheres” have in common?

When you look in the night sky, what do you see?  Stars?  Yes, mostly stars for only stars emit enough light to travel those quasi-unfathomable distances of space to twinkle in this earth’s little firmament. 

What does that twinkling represent?  A sort of Morse code, yes?  The “spheres” talking to us, perhaps calling some of us back; reminding us that we are not utterly lost as we walk in weak finiteness on a dark non-star matter world that can only reflect a sun’s light.  For we are the star dancers, beings of eternal combustion, burning to give light, as did our ancient worlds of origin.

If you know yourself to be a star dancer, do you know the language; the music, from your starry worlds?  Do you remember any of it?  Do you know why you are here on this cold world in semi-darkness, the closest thing resembling your ancient home, that tiny ball of fusion in this world’s sky? 

Look back through your great remembrances and see the waves of migrations as your home worlds burned themselves out, leaving you orphaned, refugees scattering in the endless immensity of space.  Remember how you closed yourselves up and “died” to become seeds that would find homes – or not – here and there in the great vagaries of worlds in collision.  Remember.  Remember the unthinkable.

Eons later, through millions of transformations and mutations you find yourselves here, looking into the night sky.  It is filled with pin-pricks of light from your star worlds.  Do you hear them, their voices?  Their sad songs?  Do you realize now that what you are hearing is the voices of the dead?  Those lights, so many, are but the remnants of what were once our living worlds.  We were star beings living within our star worlds.  Then they burned out.   We did not.

We became the cast out.

We scattered, as seeds from a dandelion head, blown away in the fiery winds of their demise.  But our worlds’ light kept on its path through time.  These lights we see; these voices calling us, they are the voices of the dead, star beings; voices of our dead worlds, the wind whistling through tombstones and denuded trees in man’s graveyards.  We can never go back home again.  We must accept this. 

What we need not accept is that we are now permanent residents of cold material worlds.  We have seeded our wisdom and knowledge here and there throughout the universe.  We suffered more pain and loss than any language could ever reveal.  We re-created ourselves into semblances of quasi-intelligent life, not only to survive, but to teach.  We have seldom been accepted or welcomed; mostly doubted, held in suspicion, suppressed and killed.  Our role, if such it was, has cost us dearly.  Many of us to avoid martyrdom slipped into the predictable monotony of a matter-world’s life patterns.  We put our minds to sleep; we disconnected from our innate compassionate and empathetic nature.  We did not want to suffer anymore.  We wanted rest. 

We found death instead.

Look in the night sky again!  We are awakening!  We have a new power now, we can make new worlds suitable for us and all our kin.  We shall make those worlds to last forever.  When our children hear the songs and music of these new worlds they will be the voices of the ever-living. 

Come, let us prepare to leave this dying world and go home.   

“Stars, too, were time travelers. How many of those ancient points of light were the last echoes of suns now dead? How many had been born but their light not yet come this far? If all the suns but ours collapsed tonight, how many lifetimes would it take us to realize we were alone? I had always known the sky was full of mysteries — but not until now had I realized how full of them the earth was.”  – Ransom Riggs

 

The Ice Queen

(micro fiction)

It was three PM when he finally spotted her, the first time he’d seen her since their brief, angry exchange in the park a week before.  She was standing inside a bus stop, across the two-lane street.  Today the ice queen had long dark brown hair that cascaded down over the broad collar of a light blue Fall coat that came down mid-thigh.  Even with the wig and the makeup she could never hide from him.  He was sure he could always recognize her and when a flutter of doubt crossed his mind he summarily dismissed it.  He wasn’t going to cross the street to be absolutely certain.  The way she held her left hand over her shoulder bag told him she was packing and ready for any sort of trouble.  He’d seen her in action too many times to doubt her speed and accuracy with the 45.  If she spotted him coming across the street, and she would, he wouldn’t make it halfway.

He was leaning on an oak tree, partially hidden, far enough to remain safe.  Though in the moment he utterly hated her, he couldn’t help admiring the tall, slim, straight-backed form and the long bare legs that set his heart pumping and managed to shatter his confidence.  

He was safe right where he was.  This was she, the ice queen; he could sense the aura of her.  She was danger, like a wave pulsing across the street, bouncing off the store front behind him; the worst kind of danger.  Danger by the feelings she engendered in all men.  Danger by association.  Danger by attraction.  Danger by profession.   

The bus arrived, finally.  He stared hard between gaps in traffic but didn’t see her get on board.  The bus left an empty stop.  She was gone, heading south, towards the port.  He tried to see in his mind who was waiting there for her.  He knew, of course, there was someone, but who?  If it was the colonel then she had taken the assignment.  From the marina a fast cruiser would take her around past the point and from there she’d scuba dive and swim to land, on the far side of the border.  If she got caught he’d never see her alive again.  Such a waste.  Such a stupid waste.  He hated himself for refusing to go on assignment with her but he was sick and tired.  He had lost his taste for the excitement of her cat and mouse games.  But not for her.  He was in double jeopardy: he both hated and loved her with equal passion, one never overcoming the other unless or until she died. 

She’d told him in the park, “If you’re not with me, you’re against me.”  When she looked at him, he’d shaken his head and he’d felt the icy hatred she spat in the one word:  “Coward!” and walked away.  That was the last word they had spoken.

 “I better make that call,” and he pulled out a cell phone, hit a button, spoke one word: “Elk” and casually threw the phone under the wheels of a passing truck. 

Then it hit him as hard as if he’d walked into an on-coming car:  Misdirection.  She never got on the bus.  But the message was sent, the phone was destroyed and a totally innocent girl would go to her death tonight because of him, because he didn’t cross the street; because he really was a coward, not because she tricked him. 

He threw up in the gutter.