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Saturday, September 27, 2014
I get all these fucking emails from Tea People....
Right now, conservatives have the opportunity of a lifetime.
Just six seats separate us from control of the Senate. And since that’s decided in November, most Americans are deciding their votes right now.
Josef, this is the most important time to spend on messaging and outreach efforts.
Democrats are on track to outspend us by millions in every state.
Donate right now to help voter outreach efforts like making calls, knocking on doors, sending emails, and hosting events.
This is the hard work that comes with supporting candidates on a grassroots level. Unlike our opponents, we don’t have funds from Hollywood celebrities to rely upon. We have something better: the support of people like you and your neighbors, regular Americans who believe in the conservative message.
Please support a Republican Senate majority.
Senator Tim Scott
(shakes head) Tim, Tim, Tim...
I DO NOT Support y'all.
I'm only on your frelling list because some of my employees are Goptea Creatures(Conaway, Cruz and Cornyn).
I holler at them, a lot...and they put me on these fucking lists.
I get mail, too...which is good in winter for kindling.
You all will never, ever, get any money out of me.
Your policies suck(pissing on us is mean), your philosophy is full of holes(and some oozy brown substance), and y'all are repeatedly caught out in lies, duplicity and outright hypocrisy.
I support space colonization specifically to give people like you something to do...someplace else.
Barring that, please locate the rock you all came out from under, and crawl back under it.
We have a country to repair.
As I've touched on, by the time my Mom was in College, at Sam, I was well versed in Mythology, and even had a rudimentary introduction to Neitszche under my belt(one would think that I'd learn how to spell Uncle Friedrich's name, after so many years,lol).
By that time, I had also been immersed in Deluxe Encyclopedia Britannica's exhaustive expositions on Counterculture, Mystery Religion, Social Deviance, and the like.
I had read, and re-read, Campbell's dense and erudite Masks of God, vol. 4, “Creative Mythology”, which has determined a large portion of my reading list for the rest of my life.
So there I was, wandering around a college campus in June—a college that had as one of it's focii “Criminal Justice”, and thus had a rather large collection of everything then known regarding psychoactive substances.
Campbell sent me.
I learned all about Marijuana, the Psychedelics, Cocaine, Amphetemine, the various Opiates, PCP, and the numerous Pharmaceutical concoctions.
The former 2 are what intrigued me the most.
Their association with “Mind Expansion” and the “Ineffable”--with “Direct Access” to...Something...variously, the “Thing Behind the World”, “The Roots of Things”, “The Divine Ground of Being”...
I focused on these because of my interest in Mystery Religions, Philosophy and Roots.
So many years later, when I had occasion to sample my first Joint, I knew that it was, 1. Safer than Beer, and 2. worth whatever risk involved.
Wulf and the Cephalopod had picked me up in Wulf's Blue Chevy Van...I got the hammock, swinging in the back.
We went to a buddy of theirs house on the outskirts...a buddy whose parents were “Cool”, in the parlance of the time.
There were probably a dozen or so other dudes in that buddy's Gameroom, and 2 fat Hoglegs were rolled, and began making their way around the room.
Pink Floyd's “Wish You Were Here” was on a turntable, offset lighting with many candles, and a limited supply of beer...from which I abstained.
The first “Hit” made me cough.
I was encouraged to take another, deeper, Hit...which made me cough like I had never coughed before, and I was HIGH.
Viewing the room and it's contents as if through a gauzy veil, Time slowed to a crawl, the Music(at this point, “Shine On You Crazy Diamond,2”) was palpable...a Physical Presence in the room, more real than the laughing, more experienced users...The Taste, not only in my mouth...but in my Nose...for the first time, Smell was so intimately connected with Taste...
Here was what I had been reading about for so many years.
I was given “The Roach”...and the next day, alone, (a Sunday), I walked into the woods, between the Water Tower and the Football Stadium, and smoked it in my Dad's ancient Briar Pipe.
Sat there, under a Tree.
After that, I always preferred(Still Do) to partake of such things in Natural Settings(per Leary, at the Sam Houston Library).
Two years later, after I was long done with High School, when Pokey and Roqufort and I were living in the little apartment, I was given a Hit of LSD.
I took it, and went home, fearful of what Pokey would say...and ended up with what I would later understand to be a “Bad Trip”, afraid that she would somehow know, and disapprove.
Some months later, after finally discussing the matter with both of them, we procured three Hits, and took them at the apartment.
Waiting...anticipating...finally getting Bored...we piled in my Little Red Truck and went for a Cruise.
At the Railroad Crossing in the tiny adjacent town, we stopped for a train to pass.
That's when it hit.
The passing railcars melded into each other, and we were flushed....it was time to make our way home.
This was accomplished with giggles, in spite of the apprehension...very careful driving...hyper-aware of everything.
We went skinny dipping in the Pool(it was after midnight), and Pokey and I repaired to our room, and had the best sex ever.
After these two experiences with Acid, I began to treat it, almost almost accidentally, as a sort of Sacrament.
It was serious business...whereas Pot was the “Lesser Mystery”...meant for Relaxation and Sociality.
This “Greater Mystery” was better when approached with Respect and after suitable Preparation.
Set and Setting.
In contrast, all of the Stoners were after Escape...Forgetting...Unthought.
They were seeking Release from the less than Optimal circumstances of their lives; from crazy parents to abusive uncles to broken homes and economic dysfunction.
I was after Enlightenment...and the Acid Parties I'd put on, later, were meant to accomplish just that.
Much later, during my Wild Years, I went way over the line...far from the Reservation...in this Quest.
Tequila, LSD, Pot and Psilocybin...those years on the Road were an exercise in Beyond.
Like Kesey's “Further”.(I didn't read Wolfe's “electric koolaide acid test” or any Kesey, till much, much later...but when I did, I knew exactly what they were talking about.)
After the Wild Years, at Miami Apartments at Sam, the Shroomcicle Summer was a continuation of the Experiment...a three month long Shroomfest participated in by a disparate collection of cultures and races and life-experiences:
Redneck Prison Guards, Rich College Kids, a Tribe of Black Folks, Palestinians, and Future FBI Agents(!!)...all swirling around the Complex, centered on the Pool and on my place.
I had expected to continue all of this once I arrived in Austin...but, aside from a few isolated Psychonautic Excursions, as extreme and intense as any, this period was done.
By the time of the Trailer Park, I was overcome with not only disappointment at the sad, yuppified state of Austin, but with the felt encirclement of being surrounded by too many people.
Add in the Uphill Nature of attempting to “Make a Living”, and I wanted nothing more than to retreat to some Wilderness area.
The PTSD from the Cop Persecution was asserting itself, and the all encompassing Otherness...Alien-Hood...that I had always felt, was growing unbearable.
It is only now, 20 years later, that I feel Strong enough to “Go There”, again.
The problem, of course, is where to procure Psilocybe Cubensis.
Wasson, Hoffman and Ruck's remarkable book, which I haven't read since that Summer at Sam Houston, when I was 13, just came in the mail.
30th Anniversary Printing.
It's been out of print and impossible to find for all these years.
“Road to Eleusis” is essential reading, for an understanding of Myth and Religion, in my own opinion.
I have sort of confirmed their assertions, in my own experiences.
What I have never found in any Church, I found in Psychedelia...and even in the Lingering Long Term “Attitude” that such substances can impart to one so inclined.
The River, the big, sprawling and ancient Oak, the Hilltop...
These are the True Churches, for me...and this is directly attributable to Learning How... taught, with Subtle Forcefulness, by various Psychoactive Alkaloids.
Friday, September 26, 2014
Began the day as a garbage man...
no companions... unobtrusive, or otherwise.(Ha!)
I had loaded the bulk of the detritus from what was my nascent Shop, here in town, a week ago.
Half a trailerload.
So out to the Monastery, to gather the strategically placed drums...all 3...now filled with 9 months of beer bottles and other assorted flotsam.
Dumped them in the trailer.
Took a manure fork to the little trash pile from 13 years ago, when the trash man decided he wouldn't come down our dead end road anymore, and I experimented with various methods of incineration.This pile has been deep in a brush thicket for 10 years. A man with a bobcat uncovered it, and other things.
That was a further 2 barrels.
Went to mom's and got her mountain of trashbags from the weird cage on wheels in her barn(to keep the cats out).
Tied netting all over the mess, and took dirt to town.
Parked the truck, as I'll have help manana, and it's Free Dump Day...
Hours later, neighbor from behind us shows up...says the Goat is loose...after his Nannies.
This Goat..whom I have christened Pinchegoat...was here when we got back from Galveston, last July.
The “Landlord”...wife's Uncle...had dropped it off, and not bothered to tell anyone. I make sure he has water, and dump some pellets over the fence on occasion, but I regard him as a minor annoyance.
He hit Puberty, I guess.
Smelled all those girls behind us.
And climbed the six foot chicken wire fence, into a mesquite tree, and daintily
danced away...into a little gap between the fences, that was supposed to be an alley in some distant time.
Then he finds a hole, as goats are wont to do, gets over to my next door neighbor's place, into the watermelon patch...but those don't interest him, today.
He smells those girls.
He's so close, now.
They're right across this other fence, calling seductively to him.
But this fence is that 5 foot welded stock panel.
By the time I locate Pinchegoat, he has worn a trail, all along the back fence of next door neighbor's place...pacing frantically.
As I approach, he jets into the hole and back into the Gap/Former Alley(about 2 ½ feet wide.
So it's back out to the road(these are double deep lots), and all the way back to the back of our place, and poke him with mu stick through the fence, and away he goes...back to next door neighbor's.
I trudge all the way to the road, grabbing the Big Ass Net along the way....and all the way back again, keeping close to my fence so he stays away from the hole.
I plug the hole with random wire and sticks...and attempt to casually sidle up to him...
But No! He runs circles around me, and bolts...butts through the hole...and up the tree.
Then Wife arrives.
We finally manage to corner him in the far back corner of next door neighbor's place...and cut him off, with the help of a large and ancient truck.
So he tries to go under the truck...”git his leg!! Git his leg!!”
Wife is reluctant(she is closer, and I am by now, fit to be shot). But she complies, and I finally get over there and grab both back legs and drag his ass out from there.
I get his horns, Wife gets the back legs, and we carry him to the other side of our place, to the Wild Lot...belonging to another Uncle...and I set to work shoring up the little fence that separates that place from the rest of the place.
I've sent the boys to surveille Pinchegoat twice before they left for the Friday Night Ritual Combat. Both times, he was staring at my newly shored up fence.
It is dark, now...and I am Pain, Incarnate.
I fully expect that Pinchegoat has already escaped, and is bothering the Nannies.
Either Uncle Landlord does something about this, or I'll chase Pichegoat deeper into the Barrio...to what they call Little Mexico.
He'll soon be Cabrito.
I despise Goats.
“Give a Republican a fish and he'll think he learned how to fish. Teach him to fish and he'll call you socialist. “= from (https://twitter.com/RepsArePeople)
A Texas Goptea Operative(in a Glass House, no less) begins a sort of meme-flog
informing us that “Republicans are People, too...”(http://www.republicansarepeopletoo.com/)
When I was finished cleaning the vomit, and had settled down a little, I went and looked into it.
I have heard this whining nonsense before.
It's one of the reasons I abandoned Facebook(that, and TedCrazy's Flying Monkeys getting me banned for linking to the Wall Street Journal[Obamacare is really Heritagecare])...a Liberal can't say anything, even on his/her own FB Page, without legions of ignorant and hateful morons emerging from Subspace to challenge one's every utterance...even, on several occasions, threatening my life. Many of these Trolls had “friended” me, for some reason...apparently mistaking my Left Libertarian rhetorical flourishes, and my Arid Deadpan humor, as wholehearted agreement with every jot and tittle of their insane plans for world dominance.
I was called out for exercising my Freedom of Speech, while never threatening anyone, at all.
I hurt their little feelings. Stepped on their overlarge toes.
Goptea just doesn't understand why some folks are fed up with their Bullshit.
It's so unfair.
I emailed the guy, with the “quit picking on us” apologia.
Haven't sent it yet...because it won't fucking matter...which is the point, after all.
They...even the relatively sane ones...have jumped onto the Turnip Truck, and held on for dear life, for lo, these 30-40 years...screaming at me for being a Commie and a Terrist Sympathiser, and Unamerican, and much much worse.
Their Weltanshauung has infected every aspect of American Life, making what Progress that had been made all but meaningless.
Pathological Myopia, and a Genetic Predisposition for Cognitive Dissonance...
A hatefully narrow idea of “Real American”...and never shrinking from casting aspersions on our asparagus(I shall plant an Eric Holder Asparagus Bed, once I get around to Gardening, again).
I feel perfectly Justified in lecturing the Rabid Right...especially those who are, in theory, My Employees.
The picture, there, of Brownback being pursued by a mob of torch-bearing folks on a combine is priceless...and, I hope, prophetic.
A little meme-thing that I've been consumed with lately is the Right's habit of running Experiments, then ignoring the Results.
Kansas is a perfect example, but there are many, many more.
Texas, for instance.
This is why they must shrink the electorate, and keep the gerrymandered districts.
This is why the Bullshit generators are always running balls to the wall...spreading Manure so thickly that very busy people, who have much to worry about already, remain befuddled...
I know lots of folks...on foodstamps, no less...who think that Obama is a Muslim Terrorist Socialist, and that Welfare is for the lazy...and that Democrats Eat Babies.
I've been deep into the Book, for months, now.
Around 400 pages(at least that's what the little counter sez).
It's been cathartic on many levels.
Especially the first Volume, on my life.
When I must step away from writing...usually after week long spurts of Muse Induced back pain and the eventual inability to focus any longer...I've been putting together my Shop. Fixing tools, patching holes in the roof, chasing snakes, and generally piddling, as I like to call it.
Once the Book is done, I intend to back away from the World and it's rampant Stupidity.
Get this election done, Publish the damned thing(likely on my own thin dime), and leave it on cafe tables in College Towns across Texas.(I'll be the Liberal John Galt,lol)
The Ferguson Thing, and all of the ramped up reporting on the Murderous Behaviour of far too many Cops, has the PTSD acting up, again.
Volume Two has an extended section on Cops in America, and the Eyeless denizens of country clubs and all white subdivisions who enable the racist, classist, assholery that ensues whenever a Cop confronts a Black Person, or a Hippie.(why do the Coppers figure that a Hippie is sure to be carrying weapons? Hippies= violent Crazy People? Go figger...)
I really need to finish this...and Retire.
I've given up on the Local Dems.
They cannot be pried from their Hillforts with any crowbar that I have identified...so I look forward to going into the Monastery....for realz...and for good.
We have, at long last, Joined the Lower Middle Class.
The long denied Degree...denied unjustly and probably illegally...finally came through...
and Wife is a Real Teacher.(cue Celestial Trumpets)
So we're looking at building a modest abode out at Mom's.
Hope to be out of this Shack in Town, by this time next year.
Poverty is a great educator.
One learns to make money go a long way.
With the first Real Check, of course, we went crazy.
Took the boys to Main Event in Austin, while I went to two Bookstores, and spent way too much on Books. Wife purchased some new clothes.
All of this Indulgence, and we still managed to pay down some debt, and re-stock the pantry.
All these years anticipating this Lower Middle Class-Hood,and I now expect the Economy to Collapse at any moment.
Or an Asteroid....
or the fleet from Vega to land on the football field.
“Take me to your leader.”
Some books that are now in my Library:
Kerouac-Visions of Cody(that I've never read)
Hesse-Steppenwolf(just to have, as it was foundational to my Wild Years)
Lysander Spooner-No Treason
Richard Hofstdter-Anti-Intellectualism in American Life
Terrence McKenna-Food of the Gods(I've been jonesing for a Shroom Experience, after almost 20 years)
Tokien-Lays of Beleriand
Zen Master Dogen-Moon in a Dewdrop
the Essential Proudhon
Guillaume Apollinaire-The Poet Assassinated
Dardot and Laval-The New Way of the World(on Neoliberal Society)...which I jumped right in to, head first. I highly recommend!
...and I'm still plowing through both Popper's 'Open Society..”Vol. 2, and Machiavelli's Discourses on Livy.
But I need new glasses...if it turns out that we cannot afford to do that on our own(glasses are incredibly expensive), I'll hafta wait til February when Medicaid will allow it...If I'm still eligible by then.(likely not)
I also picked up 2 of my favorite movies: A Man for All Seasons...and my all time favorite film(get ready to be surprised) the English Patient.
Also Dexter Gordon's Stella by Starlight and Thelonius Monk's Monk's Dream.
Back to work/Knuckle Down...attend to necessity...trod the winepress.
There's an Enclave to Construct.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Just a few random thoughts...
These horrible beheadings...and crucifixions!...are a dead shrimp on a treble-hook, dangled in front of the Western World...and especially the USA.
The media is all over it...the punditry is all over it...the politicians are all over it.
The rhetoric from on high sounds like a weak tea version of the rhetoric of 12 years ago. The rhetoric in the comments all over the place sounds like a Klan Rally.
Really? “Kill them All!”?
“Send in the Air Strikes”?
And if that doesn't work, send in the Troops?
This has worked so well, in the past.
Perhaps this is exactly what the lunatics want(both theirs, and ours).
Another, very interesting, article:(http://www.huffingtonpost.com/michael-vlahos/what-homers-iliad-tells-u_b_5759312.html)
This lower level rhetoric, in all the comments sections of the web, reminds me of Ferguson, and all of the hate that flooded out of the walls over that...and it reminds me of the Bush Darkness, and the stupid Hubris that led precisely to this very situation..and where a loose presidential lip let slip the word “Crusade”.
...and it reminds me of that Brzxznzski fellow(sorry, Zbig, I am not inclined to look it up, at the moment)...and the US' first foray into Afghanistan, wherein we inadvertently created both the Taliban and the proto Al Quaeda.
I am also reminded of the whole stupid waste of resources that was the “Cold War”...a war whose effects we are still very much feeling.
I think of the fall of the Ottoman Empire(think about this...an “Ottoman” is a footstool), at the end of WW1...Winston Churchill in a room full of maps and some colored markers...perhaps some darts...
And, of course, the thing that comes immediately to my mind when I hear the words “Kill them All”:
Caedite eos. Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius. ("Kill them. For the Lord knows those that are His own.")
--Arnaud Amalric , Abbot in charge of the Albigensian Crusade.
This was the shoe-horn application of 2 Timothy,”"Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, The Lord knoweth them that are His." “
We never fucking learn.
Chest thumping Fire Monkeys.
Tear the branch...swing it back and forth.
Then beat what you're afraid of with it.
Lil George and the Gang figgered they knew what they were doing...some had read Thucydides, but stopped before the disastrous attack on Syracuse.
Lil George had watched a bunch of Justice League re-runs, while failing to choke on pretzels.
They thought they could just wander into a complex foreign environment and blow some shit up, and all would be well.
What they did,instead, was to destabilise the entire Region.(which I still think was the actual Plan, all along..thereby sequestering all that oil for future use)
...which was already pretty destabilised, but still had several cork-fragments in the neck of the shook up bottle....one was a fella named Saddam.
A Vacuum was created, and Isil is what's filling it.(As Gomer Pyle would say,”Surprise, Surprise...”)
Now, there's very little that “We” can do to Undo our fucking Mess.
Maybe attach some big ass magnets to a few thousand drones, and send them dragging throughout the area, sucking up nails and guns and hub caps.
I don't know.
We'll all probably hafta pay for past mistakes, for a goodly time into the future...until the folks on the ground, there, get tired of the Caliphate's Bullshit, and the Mess wears itself out.
In the meantime, when thoughtful folks tell you that what you are contemplating is utterly foolish, and all but doomed to make things worse, maybe...just maybe...instead of ridiculing them...instead of calling them Traitors or “Terrist Lovers”...maybe you should listen...and revisit your numerous Assumptions.
Short-Medium Term...Where is Saudi Arabia? Have they no troops?
Where is the rest of the Sunni World?
Aside from breaking it in the first place, is there any good reason why the USA must deal with this, when doing so is 1. what Isil wants, and 2. guaranteed to make things worse?
I would start by beefing up the UN.
Educate all of these Rubes in the USA that the UN isn't gonna invade us, take ar gunz, or turn us all gaycommie.
Shuffle the security council to reflect the reality of a Multipolar World.
Send Kissinger to a nice home, with some robot puppies and no internet access....perhaps a Xanax Drip...
And Internationalise a few important places...starting with Jerusalem.
Take it away from Israel, and the Palestinians...make it a World City, belonging to Humanity.(this was the UN Plan, circa 1949)
Do the same with Baghdad.
New York. Houston, San Francisco.
The point is, Westphalian Nationalism is ever so passe...
The biggest economic entities are Supranational...which causes many problems: inability to tax and regulate, not the least among them.
Why can I not be a Citizen of Earth like Exxon?
Outside the Box, and Outside the Borders, thinking is what is required, here.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
I am grateful for the disembodied well wishes--received second hand from Mi Esposa,as I am no longer on FB.
I broached the 45 year line at 6:45 PM, CST, today.
However, about 8 years ago, several Doctors told me, solemnly, that my skeleton was 70 years old (then).
That would make my skeleton a ripe old 78, today.
Taking an average of 45 and 78, one arrives at 61.5 years old...which is more in line with how I feel, right now.
I worked all day in my Library, on the Mighty Tome.
Sitting, just to sit.
I did build a fire for the ribs, and place the full pan of chicken in the oven, but there were no extreme activities, today.
I felt fine.
Then, at 4 pm or so, a fast moving line of storms came racing from the south...unexpected ,even by the Weather Service.
When they had passed to the North, it was like flipping a switch.
Like my Mom's house had fallen on me.
I lay here, now, curled into a distorted “S”, in my nest of pillows, glad to have a wireless keyboard and a bigger monitor....and glad to have the leisure to try to decide if I think that Counselor Deanna Troi is hot...or not.
Film at 11.