Category Archives: TOADSPAWN Appendixes

Evil Ain't Always Bad

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Evil Ain’t Always Bad   

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    “This is a subject so difficult to talk about that my throat constricts as the words rise into the air. I who have lived with this knowledge for 23 years can hardly breathe to speak. Yes, I have come to tell you that what is evil ain’t always bad.” Belle Z. Babe spoke at the Tribunal as the lidless eyes of the Judges bore their fear, distaste, and fury like crossbows into her heart.

    At once, in the dappled inner glade which was her refuge, Belle Z. turned ruefully to Oak, her friend with the bright dark amber eyes. Like herself, Oak was of the ancient druid line of star-seed who loved the home planet Earth with concentration and glee, diligence, devotion, and somersault joy. The druids knew there was more than one time line, a fact they playfully and reverently portrayed in their intricate and passionate Celtic knots. Lightning is a druid sign because druids zigzag between times.

     While one thread of her experience had Belle Z. in a leg chain, in her glade, Oak put the back of his fingers to her cheek and suspended time with her. It was this ability to dwell in parallel and mobius time lines that gave those of druid blood their air of mystery to the single-sighted. Oak’s eyes were that dark amber struck by a shaft of sun. Not too far hidden under the surface of those lion’s eyes was merriment, mischief, and a daunting ability to concentrate. Oak shrugged, “We knew they weren’t going to like the wider truth being brought into the day light. Stay brave, Belle Z.”

     Back in the Tribunal, with no more apparent time dislocation than a heartbeat, Belle Z.Babe continued. “You didn’t like what Galileo told you either. The transition to an openly multi-dimensional consciousness is going to be rocky, but the costs of living a lie are too tremendous.

    “In the most simplistic terms, what is good’ in our Earth density of experience is not the same as what is good’ in our less dense ethereal realm of experience. “Thus evil’ ain’t always bad. Most true evil comes from confusing the layers of consequence between dimensions of experience.”

     Monger, the grim judge sneered at Belle Z., “If you let this evil out of the bottle, Mz. Z.Babe, you cannot contain it. We have kept the multi-dimensional truth from people because they are not ready for it. The danger is too great.”

    Belle Z.Babe shrugged one shoulder, “Monger, I have thought most of my lifetime about that —. It is a staggering concern. But I am convinced now that we must dare the whole truth. “If what is evil earthside is not necessarily evil in the ethereal realms, we must learn and teach how to act fittingly.’ How to act in a way that fits’ the realm of experience we presently dwell in.

     “Imagine for a moment that you and I meet in a dream and you murder me. In the land of dreams, murder could be a gotcha’ game you and I play. Or it could be symbolic between us of some rotten feelings. But because in the less-dense or ethereal realms where we inhabit dreams and other differently-consequential experiences, we pop right back up, the consequential meaning of murder is different. Therefore the ethics is different.

      “In our beloved earth/solid, relatively sequential-time realm, the consequences of war and pillage, rape, death, and promiscuity are all awful to our sturdy hearts. Yet simultaneously we dwell in levels of experience where such things have little more consequence than our actually being a character in a book we’re reading.”

     Belle Z.Babe looked at Monger’s pale ice-grey eyes directly with her green Celtic eyes and continued, “The kinesthetic intensity and time-duration intensity of Earth experience, as well as the depth and durance of emotions make consequence and responsibility different than in the diaphanous, more plastic realms where experience manifests at the speed of thought.

      “Here in this material masterpiece we have to collaborate with the nature of a stuff which has its own integrity and sturdiness.

     “Our behavior must be appropriate, must fit the space, the place wherein we immediately dwell. We cannot bring dream behavior into the solid day. This mis-taking of realms, this leeching of lusts and power struggles and emotional chaos into the consequential Earth is the source of most crime, legal and emotional. By staying primly and sentimentally blind to our multi-level experience, we avoid the complicated responsibility for our whole behavior.”

      In the glade, Oak grinned at Belle Z and said, “The constant aesthetic and ethical many-layered decisions that we hope are increasingly elegant and compelling finally make use of the 90% of that ultimate holographic and multi-D organic Celtic knot, the human brain, which has lain mostly fallow for all these centuries.

     “Of course it’s complicated and terrifying to juggle several time lines and densities in a clear, sound consciousness at once , but it’s complicated and terrifying now — and based on a wrong premise, a false foundation.

     “We must dare to trust the whole truth, to dream well and live fittingly at once.”

      “Deft and apt,” Belle Z.Babe agreed.

 

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know: pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

2 Death . Cimi . Twins . North . tzol 106  09.15.05 thur

ffwofw 861§8941/24d17h28m25s31.98gb/1072

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the pro-peace world begins today with you
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Jesus & Jesusia

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 Jesus & Jesusia

 

   Ja Guar was the renowned Director of Planetary Films. He staged what might be called morality plays on the stages we call continents in earthside lingo. His consort and cohort Gata was the chief script writer for the plays which melded actors and amnesiaized participants.

     On Earth the distilled venom vs honey – Are you poisonous or are you sweet? – melees of consciousness were focused a lot on the hairless biped, where on a more watery planet, the ceffs or cephalopods, the octopi might dominate the soap opera scene.

    When the script writers lost control of the domineering Religion Christianity, Gata was called in to do some re-writes before this Religion of Peace blew every one off the planet. <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Hiroshima and Nagasaki hadn’t made enough of a dent to sate the virulent ebolaesque e christiani, a disease where you made damned sure that your enemies whom you were supposed to love bled from every orifice and from bullets holes if the other orifi weren’t enough. This was the most virulent strain of the Religion Virus that had been developed any where in the Cosmos. And the Galactic Palaver was plenty worried in case the plague became space-borne. Everyone longed for the spread of the Worship of the Gigantic Teapot from Terengganu instead. But that was not to be. To have a really virulent strain of Religion, it has to be absent the humor gene.

        “Well, Ja Guar”, said Gata, “I’m trying to back-burn this puppy. We moved in an half million extras, the finest psychic-stunt beings in the cosmos – beings willing to wear the stifling and constricting fleshsuit and to live in deep cover for from 2-80 years to play this one big scene of devastation on the Gulf Coast of Turtle Island.

    “Each of them is Jesus or Jesusia and the hope is to wake the dormant kindness in the e christiani afflicted by exposure to the real suffering of Jesus and Jesusia. The Afflicted are resistant to norfloxacin, cefotaxime, clavulanic acid, and to reason or evidence. In addition to the drugs, there is evidentiary therapy, but the Afflicted, like those affected by the barley Blight madness in the Middle Dark Ages, are raving mad and it is difficult to interrupt their acute theophrenia.”

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to be continued    

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

…………….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

1 Serpent . Chicchan . East . tzol 105  09.14.05 wed

ffwofw 369§8941/24d17h28m25s31.98gb/1071

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the pro-peace world begins today with you
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The Rot at Capitalism’s Core

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The Rot at Capitalism’s Core

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   Let’s explore the rot at capitalism’s core. Now, friends, this is only one trip to the heart of this darkness. There have been many before and, gods swilling, many more to come – though one never comes back from a contemplation of capitalism unscathed.

    Even PBS (In USofA Inc, the least corporate major channel – one on which you could see someone playing a violin), even PBS which aspires to a soul and a heart only has Business Week. It has no Labor Week show which would on-goingly examine labor concerns.

    Let’s guillotine the iconic false idea, brayed at every opportunity by the HaveAlotMores, that we wouldn’t have an engine of invention without money-competition. Pick your interjection: Crap! Balderdash! I have done all my creative work deliberately as a passionate amateur because I can give my whole untrammeled soul to it – to the zigs, the zags of mischievous, demanding creativity. I would say that whenever I did forays into doing my stained glass or my political organizing or my Rhapsodic Life TV shows for money, I lost the astonishing compression of passion that I had had as a pure amateur, a lover of the thing. I still did them extremely well, but the real Zone of Zones is amateur. You think your gift or passion will be ratified or improved by the money, but do you really think Mick Jagger wants to sing Satisfaction again? The Muse loves the lover, not the Banker.

    This whole idea of Follow Your Bliss so rarely works out creatively that I would radically amend it to Follow Your Bliss except for Money.

    So capitalism is constructed as a Religious necessity on an entirely false idea – that people will only excel for money, then more money for more excelling. Nonsense. My life and a zillion others disprove this utterly. The best people I’ve known have labored with unflagging diligence and discipline for pittances or no money at all. For the beauty of, the fascination of, the rightness of the project itself. So the idea that competition is a necessary fuel to effort and excellence is a dangerous and stupid and enslaving knee-jerk slogan. (Ask the FattHogggists, for an instance, whether they play golf or bridge as well as they possibly can – and nobody pays them for it.)

    The whole stock market is a something-for-nothing scheme. That short-term, short-sighted, so-called profit is stolen from the real labor — by entitled people who do nothing for it whatsoever. Our economy is hideously organized around bank-worth which can be obscenely unequal, not human-worth which is fabulous-creation-of-the-universe equal.

    Trust me, I too am blinded and blinded by the horrific tonnage of societal baggage and judgments we all haul around – we and I are argus-eyed-blind so many blindnesses do we ignorantly and worse, often stubbornly, inhabit. (The peacock’s tail has dozens of brilliant ‘argus eyes,’ any and all of which can be blinded.) I too am blinded. But I fight for sight.

    If we can (some day) agree and grok¹ and funes² that each person’s life time is as exactly valuable to them as yours is to you, then we begin to build the equal-worth fellowship world and to feel shame over the cut-throat world.

   We should not reward the pirates and the pillagers and the corporate looters who rape, pillage, and maraud with the nod-&-wink pass wearing a business suit gives. We gotta quit applauding these suckers. “You have a staggeringly huge bank account? Ick, how sad for you. How unimaginative that you allow all that money to fester.”

    The Navajo insist on a collaborative model. If they have a footrace, the young buck who would clearly cross the finish line ‘first’ in our individual cut-throat vision only ‘wins’ there if his strength is brought to bear to get the old people and the little children to the finish line too with him. It is how many people you bring with you that is the victory.

    To call ourselves “the richest country on Earth” as we so bloatedly and gloatingly trumpet is bizarre if not evil when we ignore and worse condemn the appalling numbers of poor. (I would suggest to my christian brethren and sistren that every poor person is Jesus or Jesusia testing your eyes of kindness. Do you see sweetly? Or do you deny, your vision blurred by Covetousness and Greed? The eye of the needle awaits you and narrows day by day.)

    I constantly hear the poor condemned. As a teacher for 40 years, it is never the fault of the student. It’s our job to teach them motivation, to be ingenious enough to engage and nurture their talent. A sane and wholesome economy – our national household — would require figuring out how to encourage and engage these disheartened folk in our fruitfulness which cannot be called prosperous until they join the parade.  

  A human experience is utterly precious and unrepeatable – dare we allow any life to tarnish?

   The poverty-stricken are the collateral damage in an economy structured like a war. Just as I refuse to accept the mutilated child in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Iraq as ‘collateral damage tut tut shrug,’ I refuse to accept a poor person as a necessary casualty of necessary capitalism.

    Until we become both aware of and sickened by the lives diminished by our opulence, we cannot begin our recovery from our unholy addiction to Money.

 

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¹  grok .. indispensable Martian for ‘understand in a way that you utterly drink deeply’; from Stranger in a Strange Land by Heinlein, an very interesting old sci-fi, sadly steeped in an appalling misogyny, but there it is. 

 

²  funes .. Funes is the borges character who remembers everything in a blakean heart-exploding honor of universe-in-a-grain-of-sand detail. The key image is that Funes cannot understand not only how any 'dogs' can be lumped together, but even more, how dog, Puffy, asleep in the idle sun-blasted afternoon street at 2:13 pm can be considered the same dog as that dog at 2:14 pm.

    We smear and lump and clump stuff to a dimmed degree of dullness that we surely live in the back broomcloset of Plato's cave, unalert and unillumined. Anyhow I add funes to grok as a more whole and paganly holy embrace of perception. I will, thus, give myself this credit: te funes — I 'get' rather a lot about you, tho I forlorn of painting your portrait as it really deserves in any medium except my curiosity and devotion. 

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

………….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

13 Lizard . Kan . South . tzol 104  09.13.05 tues 

ffwofw 890§8769§24d7h47m33s1069§1896

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the pro-peace world begins today with you

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Fierce Schools .. Quantum Schools

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please check pogblog’s Glossary for unfamiliar & coined words.

Fierce Schools .. Quantum Schools

 part 2, draft ..

(Pls see herein below if you haven’t read The Burning Child, the foundational piece for the Quantum Schools series – or read it again. I just did. We need to grok this stuff.)

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Now, in our new Manhattan Project of Education, we want to explode brains-&-hearts wide open and bring aesthetic and invention power to an intense and playful, sustainable crescendo of lambent planetary lights — northern, eastern, western, southern lights – to each Burning Child. … Every hour we spend in the fear-based theo-milito-think, we are losing ground.

 

First let’s talk about improv for awhile. It would be the first class I’d put kids in – outta the womb into improv. Improv teaches confidence, mischief, collaboration, glee. And a way of thinking intensely more useful than the default find-fault thinking that pollutes American thought patterns. The very first rule of improv is Yes-and. “As a rare pink platypus, what do you think the next break-out discovery in nuclear physics will be?”  “Well, as a very rare and if I may be so modest as to mention it a recognized genius pink platypus, I think the next powerful discoveries in nuclear physics will be etc.”  Improv insists on the mind accepting the premise and building on it. The fruitfulness and power of this approach has to be experienced to be believed.

    Perfectly ordinary folks off the street can learn improv in three minutes. I’ve done it with amateurs for years. The reason Yes-and is so different is that you say for instance 'Let’s invest the $200,000 per minute we’re spending rubblizing <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Iraq on superb K-College education in this country.' (See Burning Child below.)

    People default to the dialectic – for, then auto-against. Start listening and you'll notice this tedious pattern. The first thing people will list is all ad nauseum the reasons we can’t invest that kind of money in schools. Once you begin to notice this dour cast of habitual mind, you’ll chuckle as person after person does this No-but thinking. If you’d taken the opposite view, they probably would have opposed you just for the habit of it. Except for the knee-jerk tut-tut quantum-down Ain’t it offal kind of wallow in misery chat. “Can you believe all those looters in New Orleans?” “Tut tut Isn’t offal? How could they?” Hungry maybe?

     If the only truly honored investment was in the human experience on the planet – with the indelible conviction that each person’s life time is as precious to them as yours is to you, we could end up with a Buenopia – not some unachievable perfectionist Utopia, but a Buenopia – a place pretty darn good.

    I suppose it’s time to mention that I do not consider law school or doctor school or business school to be education. These are fancy trade schools and they have their place perhaps, but by education I mean what has been traditionally called a ‘liberal arts’ education. You learn how to learn, how to holo-think on the original sources from the greatest philosophers, artists, inventors, alchemists, chemists, etc.  An enchanting  interwoven program like James Burke’s Connections would be a core approach to the kaboom  fascination of intellectual history and the astonishment of being alove and alive.

    A society which makes its people Cogs in a Bottom-Line Machine is evil – literally anti-life (Live spelled backwards is evil.)

     We have so much to consider in our journey from an Asylum Planet where anyone still is loose who would call a mutilated child ‘collateral damage’ to a Frabjous Planet where every single centavo is spent on human delight and invention.

      Ah ah, don’t default to all the reasons why not. Go Yes-and. Ask yourself how many young filmmakers are killers or robbers? Connect kids with the Zone – the Zone of Creating and the most outcast they tend to be is in ghastly fashion choices. Huge weapons-scale investments in art and invention and the integration of lucid waking and lucid dreaming — and you get your end-run around the war-thirst, but more on that anon.

   Always remember as an article of fact that in Y3000, people are not – not – mutilating each other and building statues to the mutilators in the town squares anymore. We do abolish war. So we’re part of the pioneers who figure out how to get there. Cool.          

 

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

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It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

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please check pogblog’s Glossary for unfamiliar & coined words.

 

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The Burning Child .. Quantum Schools

draft 1

 

“You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.” Bucky Fuller

 

   We cannot fix where we are. We cannot fix the gordian snarl we’re in. We must take the small but distinct quantum step to the Sane Fruitful Vision where we act in the gloryful, gleeful, liberating light of the fact of The Burning Child.

    Once you see that, as every bush burns, every child burns in the forests of delight, you will be honor-bound, duty-bound, future-bound to make complete superb K-College education an emergency Manhattan-Project national priority beginning today.

    The once-stolen treasure of children who blossom, not stunted, whose education is subsidized at $14,000 per minute + $200,000 per minute + $820,000 per minute – the treasure once stolen for death-dealing instead of life-dealing now fuels armies of carpenters and artists who build schools, schools that look like the vatican, the cathedral-care taken, the whimsical gargoyles, the sistine chapels cafeterias. Your learning, burning child, is sacred to we.

 

What can’t you tell about a society by what its schools look like? We got enough to lay off taxing you so you can have a 2nd mansion and a 3rd Hummer — and the school buildings completely suck? Is this what we want to say about ourselves? Shame.

 

   We should have a Manhattan Project of building and equipping the next quantum level of schools. Quantum schools. In 10 years all national schools should be splendid. We should be exporting school technology, not weapons technology. Our national security utterly depends on this urgently expanded education technology – most of which is wetware obviously. We will need to integrate lucid waking with lucid dreaming to make use of the full range of humane experience and resource.  

   We do not need one single new weapons system. The weapons we have now are sufficiently plentiful and sufficiently hideous that we can declare a moratorium until 2029 on any consideration of new weapons. It’s not like even in the dungeons of their sick and sickening fear-ridden imaginations the Death-Dealers can conjure up some opposing power fiendishly devising weapons that will unman us. We are the Boogie Man. Claro que si, so shuddup Weapons Mongers.

    So the new Manhattan Project, the Fierce Education Project, “It’s the Education, stupid!” starts fomenting education by in 3 years establishing South Korean-grade broadband – wi-fi – not wire the whole country, but unwire the whole country, every hamlet, every alley, every valley immediately.

   Hello, Mars to Earth, it is a scandal, the USofA Inc is a 3rd world communications-capacity country. We’re losing the race that matters. We’re running the last century’s race. Just like we needed the electrification of America, we need the wi-fi-ification of America. Don’t blather on about how the government can’t do things well. Piffle. It can do lots of things well. It built the InterState Highway System. It built the fxxxxxg atomic bomb in two blinks. Now we want to explode brains-&-hearts wide open and bring aesthetic and invention power to an intense and playful, sustainable crescendo of lambent planetary lights — northern, eastern, western, southern lights.

    The nation must invest in a giga-light 14” titanium metal-hinged laptop for each citizen to go with the continental wi-fi. This would cost about 150 billion dollars max, roughly ¼ of the 2006 projected military budget. If  America is to survive, least of all thrive, this is the first investment to make because the Future Fierce School is mainly mobile, the world is your school, and you plug in anywhere. (The nano-cyber-enhancer is implanted and telepathic, but that’s a few warp-miles down the star road.)

   

    The glorious schools we will build or restore have a 90% social function so people don’t lose total flesh touch. Presently we in the USofA Inc are the atavistic fight-or-flight old-Reptile-brain-stem equivalent in the rampanting symphonikizing noosphere, the world brain-soul.

    Every hour we spend in the fear-based theo-milito-think, we are losing ground.

 

Notes:

(1) We will need to invest in a buy-out of the military-industrial complex and a retraining of those personnel for a constructive rather than a destructive mind-set. This will be fabulously expensive, but it’s as cheap now as it will ever be.

 

We will be responsible for the promises made to the present military personnel and veterans. They are, however, as out-of-date as buggywhip manufacturers and the sooner we quantum-step past our old-rut-thinking the sooner we begin to blossom in the new world now being pioneered by others.

 

(2) $14,000 per minute (cost of the fantasy Missile CrackPot Scheme aka Star Wars) + $200,000 per minute (cost of Iraq quagsand) + $820,000 per minute (partial annual military budget, not including most veteran costs); 

 

(3) We have to keep our eye on the 3000/435,000 (9-11 vs annual tobacco-related deaths) prize – so-called terrorism, as revolting as it is, is a blip in the dangers the country actually faces. The obscene and absurd skewing of resources to this false Bogeyman is crippling our future, retarding our children.

 

This is draft 1 of The Burning Child – Quantum Schools.

 

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

………….….<^>……………...

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

6 Earth . Caban . Earthquake. Heron . East  tzol 97

ffwofw 1161§8769§24d7h47m33s1063§1887

10 Rabbit . Lamat . South .  tzol 88  08.28.05 sun 

ffwofw 472§8769§24d7h47m33s1047

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the pro-peace world begins today with you
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$200,000 per MINUTE in Iraq

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$200,000 per MINUTE Spent in Iraq

A Letter to The Media & other truffles of bittersweet chocolate rage.

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Dear Media,

 

As I have been walking by myself with my now-battered teach peace sign in my local downtown for 1061 days in a row, I find the most jaw-dropping figure to tell people is to say that we are spending $200,000 per minute on the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Iraq war. (I’ll put the Math below.)

 

I tell them that the Far Loony Left Extremist Agenda is universal healthcare; a superb K-College education for every child; a treasured and revered environment; a robust living wage; and nationwide free wireless internet broadband. That $200,000 per minute would make a big dent in getting these well-started.

 

Now we have Katrina. The supposedly beneficent $10.5 Billion signed for by the 12ftTall Lizard Disguised as a Human Being Who Purports to Lead Us is only 1 ½ months of the quagsand in Iraq. Down-payment this, white boy. I am so rasputinally filled with rage that I fear spontaneous combustion.

 

I implore you to get this comparison out there. Even my fervent anti-war friends did not know the costs of that felonious folly Iraq. The word ‘billion’ is one of the best propaganda weapons the repulsive Karlsputin Rove et Ilk, the 12ftTall Lizards Disguised as a Human Beings, have. It’s a dirigible word – it floats above us vaguely huge but hollow. I always say ‘1000 Million’ instead of ‘Billion.’ Then when you chunk the Iraq costs down to the minute, people jerk their heads back and gasp. $200,000 per minute. On the street I can snap my fingers — $200,000, $200,000 — $200,000 per minute.

 

I think the figure of $200,000 per minute could be the skeleton key to unlock the dismay against this war for Middle America. They have a growing angsty distaste for the war already. They need a left-uppercut meme to set them back on their heels.

 

Sincerely,

pogblog

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

pogblog@yahoo.com

 

    

The Math.

See most recently: More costly than 'the war to end all wars'; David R. Francis

August29, 2005 Christian Science Monitor

http://www.csmonitor.com/2005/0829/p15s01-cogn.htm

 

“In her estimate, Ms. Bilmes figures on $460 billion in military costs for the next five years, plus $315 billion in veterans' costs, $220 billion in added interest, and $119 billion for the economic impact of a $5 increase per barrel in the price of oil through July 2010. “I tried to be conservative,” she says.”

 

[I use / to mean ‘divided by’ so it’s easy on a calculator. The key to fitting this stuff on your hand or computer calculator is to remember that one Billion is 1000 Million.]

460 + 315 + 220 + 119 Billion = 1114 B / 5 = 222 B per year. 222,000 Million / 12 = 18,000 Million per month. 18,000 / 30 =  600 Million per day. 600,000,000 / 24 = 25,000,000 per hour.

25,000,000 / 60 = 416,666 per minute. I halved that to obviate carping.

///Those who own 8 Hummers (like Arnold Schwarzenegger) can’t imagine that people don’t have enough money for gas to evacuate. Or that they have cars too old to not quickly overheat in the slow slow going of the Evacuation Highways. (I myself would never take my old car on such an hejira – I know it wouldn’t make it.) That they have a parent too infirm to bear the journey in a car – a parent they care for at home because they can’t afford the $3000 per month fancy nursing home – or a nursing home at any price for that matter. Did the Supercilious Authorities provide public transportation out of the Killing Zone? Tut tut if only those beastly poor people would have done what they were told.

I wonder what psycho-illogical condition would cause someone to own a Humvee? I think it should be an automatic, one-way ticket to the Rubber Room, no questions asked, do not pass Go. Everything about owning a Hummer is disgusting.  Owning 8 of them would all but make me re-contemplate the possible justice of capital punishment. Certainly the stocks and shunning and the offer of seppuku.

///It’s interesting that when CNN & others want to make a moving remembrance of an unbearable event like Katrina’s wrath, they use still pictures.    

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

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It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

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Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

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3 Jaguar . Ix . Ocelot . panther . North . tzol 94 . 09.03.05 sat

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the pro-peace world begins today with you
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Peace Warriors

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Dear Peace Warriors,

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 

As we watch sur-agog at the sursurreal events in N’Orleans and surround, I try to draw what lessons I can for the Yet Longer Battle for a world that defaults to peace and to saving its treasure, élan, ingenuity, and worldriotic (cf patriotic) zeal for building and re-building.

 

We see in the streets all at once the people we allow to be gruelingly poor while we give pornographically obscene tax cuts to people with sickening amounts of money festering in their bank accounts – as some Supreme Court Justice said once ‘I know pornographically obscene amounts of money when I see them.’

 

Please do me a favor and tell one person in your family or at work or at the pool hall today that we are spending $200,000 per minute in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Iraq. (And an additional $680,000 per minute for the rest of the core Military Budget.)

 

The amount of money the Congress is so beneficently allotting to re-build the obliteration of the Gulf Coast in our HomeLand is about a month & ½  worth of Iraq. The Emperor with No Clothes striding like a Phantom (& Naked) Colossus over this heartbreaking giga-event on the Gulf Coast is the combined out-poured costs of Iraq and the monstrous tax cut to the FatHoggists bestriding their bank accounts with contumely and codpieces a-jut. 

 

It is sad to contemplate that even with the $200,000 million spent on the quagsands in Iraq, there has been so pathetically little building. We are, re building, (minus one very rotten dictator), in much worse shape than we were on the day before we went into Iraq a-shockin’ and a-awein’.

 

 We need to grok the present costs of indulging in war before we can unconditionally demand a quantumly new model where war is seen as abject shameful failure. Where no war can be perpetrated without the children or lacking same, the nephews, the grandchildren of the Bush, Rove, Condi, Rumsfeld, Cheney-Equivalents of the time being deployed at the grunt level to the front lines. Believe that this shameful (because war will be held as hideous failure of leadership and societal ingenuity) route is the only solution? Put your own daggone kids, your own skin in the dangerous game.

 

At this moment we are simply ignorant of the costs in terms we can grok¹. (I was ignorant until I grokked that one billion was one-thousand million.)

 

 I think they depend on our ignorance. They think we’ll go “10.5 billion for hurricane relief – what lovely caring people rule us.” Well, in addition to the $200,000 per minute for the Iraq debacle,  the tax cuts for those making over a million dollars will be 32 billion this year.

 

Also enter into your reeling mind that 3000 people were (horribly) killed on 9/11. In that same year, 425,000 Americans died from tobacco-related causes. What really endangers Americans?

 

[I would suggest actually that what really endangers Americans is that pesky Far Looney Left Extremists’ Agenda of universal healthcare; a superb K-College education; a treasured and revered environment; a robust living wage; and nation-wide wireless broadband. Well, the lack of that Looney Left Extremist Agenda, actually.]

 

So, with some of these things in our reeling minds, where does our thinking as Peace Warriors go? Let me be up front. I have become a Peace Extremist, a militant pacifist, a fierce pacifist – because I know that that’s where we get before Y3000. Because peace is actually the most practical way to run huge numbers of created-equal citizens of the planet, each of whose life-time is just as valuable to them as yours is to you.

 

I also know from talking to a valued friend that militant pacifism and the actual abolition of war are a leap too far for most folks in this time. A lot of folks are still Jeffersonian – schizophrenic about slavery – it’s pretty oxymoronically an ‘awful necessity.’ Many good-hearted people are schizophrenic about war – it’s awful, but we need to have it as a more truly last resort, they say.

 

So I’m suggesting tactically – or is it strategically? – that we go for changing the language to a greater truth. We don’t go to war, we go to mutilation. It is a grotesque and shameful failure to have to resort to mass mutilation. If we need to have massmutilation as a last resort, the kids of the Leaders are bond that it really is the last resort to them.

 

Then we take the cathedral view. (People who follow pogblog know I’m a ragin’ pagan in so far as you must label me.) Cathedrals took 400 years to build². You started the sacred project with no hope of seeing it completed yourself. You made your whole-hearted contribution, carved your gargoyle, because it was the damn right thing to do. The abolition of war is the right thing to do. I am happy carving my obscure gargoyle knowing that it’s a part of an astonishing whole that will be a song-in-stone generations down the silver river of time.

 

///I've been feeling a tad abandoned by the universe of late — I mean I've had it with the Spending $200,000 Per Minute on the quagsand in Iraq and other universe misbehavior and petulance. But just when you're about to write off the universe as intractable, it vouchsafes you a tidbit to let you know that the real universe, the one that makes parrot wings and tiramisu gelato, has been kidnapped by some ShrubCondiRumsChenRovian Entity. It sends out a message in a bottle that you can't mistake, a quirk of obsidian humor that says, “Hang in there, pals of the rambunctious universe, irony does prevail.”  This time it sent me a note through pogblog Commentator yogaartnat saying that the anagram for Evangelist is Evil's agent. And, like Pippa Passes which nobody probably reads anymore, I know that all's right with the world. Evangelist = Evil's agent — now that's swell. 

 

ps. fema was having money sent to Pat ‘The Assassinator’ Robertson.

http://www.sploid.com/ (Sploid entry 09/01/05, 2:45 pm Eastern)

 

The mind really reels. Do you think if *I* call for the assassination of a foreign leader, I can get on Fema's links? I could call it Operation Stressing — which I thought I was because not just having lost my darling 1970 Dodge and being wheelless &c, now the housemate killed his car this aft after I lent him $850 bucks to get a new clutch last week. However, after N'Orleans,  one would like to hope that one never complains again. Tho the splinters I got to the quick under the fingernail of my right thumb while sanding a stick for the new Protest Sign did hurt.

 

I swear I was saying all evening (Thurs) while I heard those reports of the evil snipers that I bet it was a rump-covering planted story to get the blame off their Gigantic Incompetence & there it was on Sploid. (09/01/05, 8:57pm)

 

In quantum bemusement, quantum amusement,

 

pogblog

 

pps. Remember Sat Sept 24 for the Big Peace rally near you.

 

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² The Cathedral Within by Bill Shore (passim) years ago amplified my life-long use of the cathedral image.

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

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¹ Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

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2 Cane . Ben . Reed . East  tzol 93 . 09.02.05 fri

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the pro-peace world begins today with you
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The Burning Child .. .. Quantum Schools

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please check pogblog’s Glossary for unfamiliar & coined words.

 

.

.

The Burning Child .. Quantum Schools

draft 1

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 

“You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.” Bucky Fuller

 

   We cannot fix where we are. We cannot fix the gordian snarl we’re in. We must take the small but distinct quantum step to the Sane Fruitful Vision where we act in the gloryful, gleeful, liberating light of the fact of The Burning Child.

    Once you see that, as every bush burns, every child burns in the forests of delight, you will be honor-bound, duty-bound, future-bound to make complete superb K-College education an emergency Manhattan-Project national priority beginning today.

    The once-stolen treasure of children who blossom, not stunted, whose education is subsidized at $14,000 per minute + $200,000 per minute + $820,000 per minute – the treasure once stolen for death-dealing instead of life-dealing now fuels armies of carpenters and artists who build schools, schools that look like the vatican, the cathedral-care taken, the whimsical gargoyles, the sistine chapels cafeterias. Your learning, burning child, is sacred to we.

 

What can’t you tell about a society by what its schools look like? We got enough to lay off taxing you so you can have a 2nd mansion and a 3rd Hummer — and the school buildings completely suck? Is this what we want to say about ourselves? Shame.

 

   We should have a Manhattan Project of building and equipping the next quantum level of schools. Quantum schools. In 10 years all national schools should be splendid. We should be exporting school technology, not weapons technology. Our national security utterly depends on this urgently expanded education technology – most of which is wetware obviously. We will need to integrate lucid waking with lucid dreaming to make use of the full range of humane experience and resource.   

   We do not need one single new weapons system. The weapons we have now are sufficiently plentiful and sufficiently hideous that we can declare a moratorium until 2029 on any consideration of new weapons. It’s not like even in the dungeons of their sick and sickening fear-ridden imaginations the Death-dealers can conjure up some opposing power fiendishly devising weapons that will unman us. We are the Boogie Man. Claro que si, so shuddup Weapons Mongers.

    So the new Manhattan Project, the Fierce Education Project, “It’s the Education, stupid!” starts fomenting education by in 3 years establishing South Korean-grade broadband – wi-fi – not wire the whole country, but unwire the whole country, every hamlet, every alley, every valley immediately.

   Hello, Mars to Earth, it is a scandal, the USofA Inc is a 3rd world communications-capacity country. We’re losing the race that matters. We’re running the last century’s race. Just like we needed the electrification of <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />America, we need the wi-fi-ification of America. Don’t blather on about how the government can’t do things well. Piffle. It can do lots of things well. It built the InterState Highway System. It built the fxxxxxg atomic bomb in  two blinks. Now we want to explode brains-&-hearts wide open and bring aesthetic and invention power to an intense and playful, sustainable crescendo of lambent planetary lights — northern, eastern, western, southern lights.

    The nation must invest in a giga-light 14” titanium metal-hinged laptop for each citizen to go with the continental wi-fi. This would cost about 150 billion dollars max, roughly ¼ of the 2006 projected military budget. If  America is to survive, least of all thrive, this is the first investment to make because the Future Fierce School is mainly mobile, the world is your school, and you plug in anywhere. (The nano-cyber-enhancer is implanted and telepathic, but that’s a few warp-miles down the star road.)

   

    The glorious schools we will build or restore have a 90% social function so people don’t lose total flesh touch. Presently we in the USofA Inc are the atavistic fight-or-flight old-Reptile-brain-stem equivalent in  the  rampanting symphonikizing noosphere, the world brain-soul.

    Every hour we spend in the fear-based theo-milito-think, we are losing ground.

 

Notes:

(1) We will need to invest in a buy-out of the military-industrial complex and a retraining of those personnel for a constructive rather than a destructive mind-set. This will be fabulously expensive, but it’s as cheap now as it will ever be.

 

We will be responsible for the promises made to the present military personnel and veterans. They are, however, as out-of-date as buggywhip manufacturers and the sooner we quantum-step past our old-rut-thinking the sooner we begin to blossom in the new world now being pioneered by others.

 

(2) $14,000 per minute (cost of the fantasy Missile CrackPot Scheme aka Star Wars) + $200,000 per minute (cost of Iraq quagsand) + $820,000 per minute (partial annual military budget, not including most veteran costs); 

 

(3) We have to keep our eye on the 3000/435,000 (9-11 vs annual tobacco-related deaths) prize — so-called terrorism, as revolting as it is, is a blip in the dangers the country actually faces. The obscene and absurd skewing of resources to this false Bogeyman is crippling our future, retarding our children.

 

This is draft 1 of The Burning Child – Quantum Schools.

 

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

………….….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

10 Rabbit . Lamat . South .  tzol 88  08.28.05 sun 

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the pro-peace world begins today with you
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Heed the Hurricane

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 Heed the Hurricane

 

    Some driftwood & detritus washed up by Katrina, Hurricane Suprema. Hurrikan; orkaan; ouragan; uragano; huracán; furacao.

    I’m not sure how vivid a demonstration we need about the meta-requirement to quantum leap to the collaborative model from the competitive, cutthroat model. Gee, a hurricane flattens the mansion and the hut alike and leaves us naked and wind-shocked, water-shocked sitting on the rooftop.

    The re-building task is so vast, requires such massive funds and coordination – that’s it, ain’t it: Coordi Nation – that’s where we’re supposed to live.

   Of course our nation is actually bankrupt – our Notes are held by the Chinese and the Japanese and the and the &c. But we get to pretend and preen because it suits the needs of the Economic Structures as they presently exist. Like in the Cold War, MAD –this is Mutually Assured Delusion, nudge nudge, wink wink.

    How much would we like the National Guard to be back here at home doing what they were supposed to do – guard the nation, and humbly and doggedly clean up and help rebuild the pick-up sticks, the damn mess? Instead of making the punier messes that testosterone can wreck with bombs in a foreign land.

   //I ‘m so sad for the forests tonight. There will be chains saws a plenty cutting the lumber for this reconstruction and clear cutting here we come.

  //Thirty years ago I was in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Puerto Rico in a barrio on the low-lying sea short in a might storm where we were eventually evacuated from the flood. The weirdness of flood is how inexorably it rises. It complete quells and daunts the imagination because there is so nothing you can do about it and obsessively you watch the wall as the water rises – it is a slow-motion levitation.

     As a little girl I was in the legendary Hazel, a ferocious furacao who uprooted our mighty oak tree casually. I remember leaning against the wind not sort of, but actually, completely.

    I’ve been watching weather screens on tv since they invented them and I never saw anything the size of Katrina. Now that we have Undisputed Global Warming, we are going to get routine monster storms because they will have all this warm water to feed upon – to make them furious and dangerous. I think of the Red Spot on Jupiter, a giga-storm which has lasted for centuries since we could have the lens technology to see it in 1655.

   Will we have to live underground? Will we have to live in strange domed stilted dwellings that don’t resemble houses. I mean if in five years, every orkaan is the size and relentlessness of Katrina? Suppose she is the First HorseWoman of the Apocalypse?

    Whatever the sunstorms will have wrought, we will have little time for discretionary wars. Katrina may have been the Hitlera of storms, but we can’t strut Mission Accomplished with our codpiece baked-potato-enhanced like Mr. Bush so embarrassingly on the USS Abe Lincoln. She is only the first Iron Mistress who is going to flatten the shores of God’s nation.

    We know Mr. Bush will strut through the rubble with carefully selected, carefully grateful Victims fawning over his Help. We have to live through that – hopefully we can see through it. The Ultimate and repeated Photo-Op. One cringes – like at Bob Dole’s Viagra ads – please don’t, Bob. Imagining you rampaging around the Kansas mansion after Lizzy for four hours is even worse than having to think of one’s parents being procreative. The Ick & Yuck Factors rise with one’s gorge.

     We will wish we had the $200,000 per minute we’re spending in the quagsands of Iraq to bring to bear in the Good Times Town and its neighbors. The expenses to come will clearly be staggering. It would be handy to have the $14,000 per minute we’re spending on the fantasy Missile CrackPot Scheme aka Star Wars to get the flood-delivered sewage-petroleum slime off the walls of 500,000 houses.

   To Mr. Bush’s Great Joy, this wind-&-water Hell will wipe Iraq completely off the front pages. # 1880 will come and will go. To Hell with Bread & Steroid Circuses & Terrorists. We got Monster Storms to derail rebellion. And windblown anchormen are so photogenic. Halliburton & subsidiaries  will make a zillion on the clean-up and reconstruction and all will be well in the Coffers of Family Bush and Family Cheney and their Ilk.

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 

But those of us heeding the hurricane will requadruple our efforts toward peace and towards justice. This hurricane cloud will have a silver lining if we can sidestep fear – and press on, regardless. 

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

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Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

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The Eloquent Lamentors .. Yes, you. Yes, me.

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<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” />  

The Eloquent Lamentors .. .. Yes, you. Yes, me.

 

    “You seem so blue tonight, my turtle dove,” Fuller said. “That’s not your usual m.o. You usually insist on Pressing on, regardless.”

 

“Yeah,” said Flan wanly. “Well, I see that we don’t save Known Soldier, Juan Smith, Death #1999. We’re at Death #1878. That leaves 120 Deaths until it’s Juan’s fated turn – unless we rise up as ardent Lovers of Peace and pour into the street by the millions on Saturday September 24. But most people won’t be bothered. They’d rather eloquently lament. And then go to the Mall on that Saturday. Or to a wedding. Or worry about whether they’re too fat to be seen in public. The rut, the familiar rut will embrace them instead.”

    “Remember that a Peace Rally is an unknown to most of them. They worry that they don’t have a sign. How will they get there? Will there be a bunch of slavering rowdy young noisy people? Or a bunch of graying old hippies that one would lose one’s cred to be seen with,” said Fuller.

    Flan looked at him nonplussed. “Hmmm. I never thought that they might be shy about going to a Peace Rally. Well, they don’t need a sign. They just need to  be a body milling around to swell the crowd. They’ll see the huge papier mache dove which needs three people to carry it – one for the body and one for each wing. They will see some graying hippies and for you that’s a down side in cred land, but also there will be a fascinating horde of people just like their own genre of folk and constellations of people not like them at all. They’ll grin and grin at the unexpected sweetness and variety of humankind who have showed up for peace. They will be so happy they took the chance. That they bothered to go. They’ll remember it for the rest of their lives.

    “I go up on the train to <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Millbrae and take Bart to the Civic Center stop, a few steps from the Plaza behind City Hall. I don’t actually do the March part. I arrive between noon & 1pm & I go directly to where the March will end at the Plaza behind City Hall, across from the new Asian Art Museum and the Main Library. A day pass on the train costs $7. The Bart will cost about $6. I call 511 & have them help me plan the trip exactly. No parking, no fuss. Once you’ve done it, you’ll always go to the city on the train, then Bart. It’s so restful. If you do have a sign, neither the train nor Bart minds. I usually stay til 2 or 2:30 and then wander on home.

    “It is as instructive a few hours as you can possibly spend in your life – all that hope on the hoof. You will feel at once humble and bursting with pride – all these kind and earnest and wry and hopeful people in one place. You will be able to go back by the watercooler at work and say, ‘Guess what, I did the most astonishing thing.’”

     “Who would not go if they knew how cool and important it is?” Fuller said.

    “Those who would prefer to eloquently lament. The ones who will let Juan Smith, Known Soldier, Death#1999 die rather than outwit their own inertia. A Peace Rally is like the Justice Union striking against the Military-Industrial Complex, the hummernaut that has us all in thrall. ‘The madness  of militarism,’ Doctor King called it, and a Peace Rally is like a strike against that.

   “Do the psychic forces of KarlRovism have us cowed and enervated or can we take a stand? This is the question we will answer with our whereabouts on Saturday September 24 at 1pm. Like where were you when you heard Kennedy was shot if that was your era? This September 24 Peace rally is a barometer of how deep our resistance to war has become. Will it move us to a small but actual action? Or will we continue to eloquently lament?”   

       

part 2 

The Grave of the Known Soldier..Save Juan Smith #1999

 

What do we know about Sgt. Juan Smith who is doomed to die on Tuesday November 22 2005? 

 

Why does it bother me particularly that he is a huge fan of the fey movie Spinal Tap, a celebration if there ever was one of harmlessness? Perhaps because it is unexpected that a 26 year-old has such quirky taste. I like that in him.

 

Well, he'll be 26 when he is shot in the head. The left side of his head. His brains will splatter onto soldier Raymond Callahan, his second best friend, a 22-year-old from Alabama whose mother, Joyce Callahan, voted for George Bush in  2000, but will never vote Republican again. Mrs. Smith, Juan's mother, dwells in a twilight of sadness.

 

Juan Smith's birthday is on November 8, so he is 25 now as we watch in August, waiting for him to die. Just turned 26 when he dies. He is a Scorpio with Pisces rising. Brave, dreamy, very very smart about the conscious world of day and of tanks, RPGs and rubble, and of the unconscious world, which runs the whole shebang in Iraqi, but which is never spoken of. 

 

Juan Smith does not have to die. He does not have to be #1999. We could stop it at once. Someone will be the last man's name on a stark white cross. The last man on The List. Maybe it could stop at #1888? Mr. Bush could see that piling up more dead in flag-draped coffins we are not allowed to view will not make the war end better. It is going to end badly. We know that. Nothing will keep the insurgents from blowing up American soldiers for the next 300 years. Cheap explosives. Countless idealistic young men, sold, like ours, a bill of goods.

 

There will be some morning when The Lizard Leaders lie no more. Because nobody's buying their snake oil — well, lizard oil, I guess.

 

Damnit, Juan, I don't know what to do to save you. I do not know what to do. We talk now a little. I'm psychic. I've seen his death. He's seen me seeing it. He's imploring me to turn back time before it is reached so he can go home, marry the very pretty — not beautiful, but very pretty, Felicia, buy the blue pick-up truck his cousin could sell him in the first week of December if he could only live that long. Their first child would be named Joseph.

 

Is it Baquba? Taji? Al Asad? Abd Allah? I cannot read the address of the bullet yet. He has written the name of Felicia inside his helment with a Sharpie. Felicia es mi ángel. He drew a heart above and one below.

 

Felicia keeps his toolled cowboy boots by her bed, waiting for his return. Which does not happen because we did not pour into the streets soon enough. We lamented, but did not act. As if our being embarrassed or discomfited was more unbearable than the death of #1999.
..
08.16.05 98 days 141,120 minutes until the Death of Juan Smith #1999

 ∞∙∞∙∙∞∙∞∙∞∙∙∞∙∞∙∞∙∙∞∙∞∙∞∙∙∞∙

..

Today, 08.15.05,  we're at 1852 American soldiers dead. To me this isn't only about Ken or Casey or Roberto or Rachel  — it's about Juan Smith #1999 — is there ANY way we can save that kid?¹

 

Is there ANY way we can save Juan Smith #1999 using the energy and the smarts of people like you and Cindy and me and any darnbody at all?

 

“How do you ask a man to be the last man to die in Iraq for a mistake?”²

 

I actually asked myself when I woke up this very morning, “Would I sleep with Karl Rove if it would stop the war today?” I have to tell you it was a sobering question which I could not answer at once. You cannot possibly imagine how much I despise slitherer Karl Rove and how much stealthy evil he has done malice aforethought. But now after a few hours of thought, clearly yes, to stop the senseless death of another kid, I'd even do that.)

 

As I write this mid-August, 1852 American soldiers (sons daughters fathers mothers individual unrepeatable lives) have died in the quagQuicksands of Iraq.

 

Can we possibly pull our ingenuities and resources together and save Juan Smith destined to be #1999?

 

That would give us 146 dead to wake up, write our Congress people, write Letters to the Editors. Save Juan Smith #1999. Or does the count drone on and we sit baffled, lamenting?

 

Save Juan Smith #1999.

 

pogblog

 

ps. Please send this Save #1999 link to your friends.

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com/blog/_archives/2005/8/15/1140249.html

 

Put democrats.com on your Favorites/Bookmarks and visit every day. http://www.democrats.com/

 

All the contact info for House & Senate is at afterdowningstreet. Get on their emailing list for Actions. It is beautifully and heartfeltedly organized. http://www.afterdowningstreet.org/

 

² adapted from John Kerry’s 1971 speech before Congress; 

 

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com

………….<^>……………..

It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.

………….….<^>……………..

Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

12 Dog . Oc . Wolf. North . tzol 90  08.30.05 tues

10 Eagle . Men . West .  tzolkin 75  08.15.05 mon 

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the pro-peace world begins today with you

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Nader & the Triumph of the Shadow

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Nader & the (Temporary) Triumph of the Shadow 

 

   Of course I have several tons of trouble forgiving the idiot Nader voters in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Florida in 2000 who voted for Nader The Unspeakable instead of for Al Gore. (That Nader allowed it was Unspeakable.) This was an historically insane case of  letting the perfect become the enemy of the good. No, they are not “all the same.” Yes, there is a huge, a gigantic difference between the Parties. 90 thousand Nader voters in Florida. What were those people thinking?  A case of rampaging political immaturity and political petulance at its very worst. You make a protest vote in Idaho or California, not in Florida, you under-informed flaming imbeciles. Don’t even talk to me about the cousins of rats who didn’t get around to registering at all. Or didn’t vote at all “because they’re all the same.” We’re supposed to forgive you this self-indulgent nonsense? Like suicide – stand on the ledge and do your drama so we know you’re really upset, but don’t actually jump. Ruins too many lives, including your own.

    I remember going to sleep a couple of days before the Election thinking, ‘In World X, Al Gore wins and in World Y, George Bush wins — and I wonder which world I wake up in?’

   Well, ole Fat E woke me up in World Y. How in the Hell could it have happened? We had a vast budget surplus. Al Gore was a man of depth and insight who was a champion of the environment and a champion of the Internet slash Future and of civil rights. We were set to take our place as a leader of an increasingly free and just future of humane development. It was clearly in the stars and in the cards.

    What the hell happened? The Shadow. Jung’s Shadow. The atavistic forces of fear and paranoia; the primitive, fundamentalist, future-fearing, dark underbelly which lurks maggotily writhing under all our enlightened rocks. We have to have a Reckoning with the Shadow before we move on.

    These Shadow-ridden folk are the apotheosis, the manifestation of gigaGreed and Religious zeal and perversion of the kindness, the tenderness the mature can dare, the kindness required by all the Sages, including the impetuous young Jesus, an undeveloped, somewhat inflated and delusional, but occasionally inspired incipient Sage.

    We have to slog through the gruesome recognition of the capacity for nastiness and selfishness in our own selves – these horrible people are our very own family – we cannot keep sweeping this garbage under the rug just because it’s so skin-crawlingly embarrassing. We have to speak out clearly, we have to draw the lines. War is an unspeakable violent mess. Capitalism has strengths and grotesque weaknesses. Addiction to Patriotism and Religion blinds people to kindness and fellow-feeling. It is harder to be adult, sane, humane, and sensible than it is to say those words. Our country has been bloated with hubris, power-drunk – George used to do Jack Daniels, now he does PowerAde – both incapacitating of the resources of the heart. We haven’t listened or consulted or collaborated. America must spend some serious time in a dunce cap.

    Nationally and internationally we have submitted to Bullyism, the delusional entitlement that the Have-Mores have accrued unto themselves in ugly spasms of self-righteous Greed multiplied by Creed.

    We can discover a sweetness of purpose and the enduring strength of that if we keep our own hearts bright and refuse to succumb to the ghoulish perils of Seriousness.

    More about antidotes anon.

 

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11 Water . Muluc . The River . East  tzol 89  08.29.05 mon

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