A Nautical Tale

Why should I invite you into my boat, when I know it leaks and the chart I use is blank? Why should I challenge your beliefs? What is to be gained? All good questions with which I have wrestled over the years. Many years. I can come up with a few answers…vanity, misery loves company, altruism in its purest form. All noble conclusions. Even the self-deprecating ones.
There were several people in my life that challenged what I believed. I thank them. And I condemn them. For all is not what it seems in this leaky boat of no beliefs. It is cramped and yet lonely.
It is far from comfortable. It twists and turns with the tides, the wake of passing ships and winds. It has no course that I can deduce. But of course, I prefer it that way. As opposed to being attached with a line to another larger craft that seems to have a bearing. When one is so attached, it is difficult to see where you are being led, no matter how swiftly and effortlessly you are pulled through this life. So I drift. Alone. I see other one-man craft in my journey, and we will throw up a hand, but since neither of us can control our course, we soon part ways. 
When I was a very young man, a friend and I liked to take our one man inflatable dinghys off the coast to fish for bonita. They are a seasonal schooling fish and angling in a small craft in the middle of a run, can be exciting and later delicious. Double and triple hooks are not uncommon. But as young men often do, we misjudged.

One morning while chasing such a school, I ventured away from my friend and the shore a bit too much.  Then BANG…I got a massive hit and my reel was singing as I felt myself being pulled this way and that by the strength of the fish that I had hooked. Its weight and speed created a wake around my little light craft as I held on to the pole desperate to land this behemoth. Then just as suddenly as I had hooked, the line broke, and the silence started to surround me as my friend’s voice was no longer within hearing distance. Then I noticed that in all the excitement, I had knocked both little plastic oars into the sea. I turned quickly enough to see them drifting off into a fog bank that was rolling in.  I knew that the direction of the fog was coming into shore…but how far out had I been pulled? The mist soon surrounded my little boat as I yelled at the top of my lungs. Then silence, an occasional fog horn and the slap of water coming over the edge of my boat was all that I could hear.

 I was fucked and I knew it. As the fog engulfed me, I lost all sense of direction, as you will in the middle of sheer nothingness. All manner of rational thought flew away from me as I screamed into the silence…hoping to hear my friends voice in answer. Nothing. I must have drifted like that for close to an hour. Then I heard the sound of rushing water coming closer to me out of the fog. A heart-stopping blast of a horn…and I knew instantly that I must have drifted out into the shipping lanes…and I was about to be run over like the flotsam I was, by a passing ship. I paddled with my hands as fast as I could away from the sound which when I think about it probably saved my life. Along with the passing monster of a ship that appeared came its wake that pushed and spun my craft away and into the sunshine. After it had passed and the uncontrollable rocking of my rubber skiff had calmed I quickly took in the view of the beach as merely a distant horizon line, the better part of a mile away. What seemed like hours of hand paddling and the rushing surf eventually landed me on the beach where my friend had been for quite some time.

Quite the adventure. But what is the point? I dunno. At the risk of plagiarizing Hemingway, I have to say that little sojourn into the unknown scarred my little brain. In a good way.
There are all kinds of boats out here in this vast ocean. Ships, yachts, sail boats, junks. You name it. They all seem to know where they are going.
Port Comfort. Just a few nautical miles from here in Gregarious Bay. A place to show your craft. Size up the pinnace of others. But I remember an exhilarating experience being on my own and am drawn back to it. Fear? Yes. Loneliness? You bet. Independence? In spades. And a view.
  

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Cheap Shot…

I am going to take a cheap shot. Sort of. With all this Boston marathon hype, I find myself watching clips from ‘tv’ online to get
the latest bullshit being spread in their media. It’s hilarious.  For that, may the lord make me truly sorry. 
But I’m just gonna have to come out and say it. I have never seen so much ‘nose-meat’ in my life. I had no idea that it had gotten this far.

Now this little rant/observation has been bugging me for a few years, but without wishing to sound off-the-wall bigoted, I refrained from saying anything about it. There seems to be a ‘meme’ gathering though. A trend in which the bespectacled, curly-headed, huge nose appearance is somehow gaining acceptance? Now, aesthetically speaking, I have no problem with people wearing glasses. And I have few if any problems with noses. But when the size of the nose is accentuated by goofy cheaters…well, I gotta think that there is a new ‘chic’ arriving on the marketplace. And I gotta look to where it comes from. Now sue me, but if I had a honker the size of a Buick, I don’t think I would try to make it look the size of a Hummer by sitting tiny black-framed glasses on top of it. But maybe that’s just me.

Many millions of people have large noses and they are not always cult members. Many cult members do not have large honkers. Medical science informs us that of the few things that never stop growing as we age…the ears and the nose are the most noticeable. So I understand that if you start out in life with a rather large proboscus…well, by late adulthood...it will enter the room several minutes before you do.
But it is more than that. The media can push whatever they want on a docile public. Bad music. Questionable art. Horrible films. But appearance is just something that is hard to change in the eyes of the public.

When I was a kid, everyone knew that for a good laugh, nothing beat the huge nose and glasses disguise. Al la Groucho Marx. Even he made fun of his own appearance by enhancing his eyebrows and mustache. He was funny-looking. The difference between those times and now is, I guess, it is supposed to be acceptable to play up these repulsive physical characteristics in the media. Contacts and rhinoplasty are no longer needed  for one to blend. Well, it is obvious from whence this new ‘beauty’ standard comes. And I understand that if you are a tribe member and you are just dying to get your puss on the screen, that you have to think about these things. Plastic surgery? Laser eye treatments? Or just go with the ‘jew look’. The well-worn stereotypical Woody Allen. But when are we supposed to laugh? And when are we supposed to take this goofy looking mask seriously? Well, it would seem that we are being asked to take it seriously all the time nowadays. Women are supposed to fall all over themselves at the mere glimpse of a gargantuan beak topped with glasses frames to glorify the sheer size of one’s bill and one’s narrow placement of the eyes. Frame such a countenance with dark ringlets and voila. The new handsome. Huh?
 
As I said, this is merely and observation arrived at through a few glimpses into your world of talmud-vision. 
I suppose if you are bent on pushing your culture on a non-tribal populace and are looking to gain acceptance through your media, you would have to also push your physical stereotype. This appearance boilerplate will out. At some point you have to stop trying to look like a goy and come out of the closet. Proboscus, goofy frames and all. But what gets me is the way the Gentile celeb tries to mimic such humerous presence. Probably dictated by their owners in an attempt to soften the hilarity of such human ugliness.
I guess, I’m trying to say that since I’m not used to this temperature
that other frogs in the pot have grown to be okay with…I don’t know when to laugh anymore. This isn’t meant to be profound. It certainly isn’t scientific. It is(if jews were truly a race)a racial slur masquerading as valid consideration.
You probably shouldn’t even be reading this, nor should I be writing it…but I just can‘t help but giggle and forget entirely what it was he was saying when I see the Wolf as he is telling me of the latest terrorist threat. I should take this guy seriously?  I mean, Groucho?  Oh, please.  

 
 

False Flags And Real Ones…

I apologize to the millions of readers I have out there just itching to
read my latest post. I haven’t written in a while. Been kinda busy.
But I’m back.

I had my first heart attack.

Now, for all of you jealous folks out there wishing you could have one too…I gotta tell ya that it just isn’t half as much fun as they say. Sure, you get to stay in a hospital and spend all day in a uncomfortable bed, answering a gazillion questions from every nurse that happens to pass by. Of course you get to take time off work. Then there is that sexy scar. These are all on the plus side, I agree. But on the not-so-much side, there is a considerable amount of pain, panic and  reassessment of your life that, well…just isn’t much in the  way of amusement at all.
If I were to choose, I don’t think I  would have another. Maybe that’s just me. 

But I wasn’t intending to throw a pity-party here. I’m okay. Aside  from all the pills I have to take in the aftermath, I’m back on my feet and  healing. Well, physically anyway. Mentally, such trauma can cause one to pause. I guess I am still paused a bit. Plenty of time to look around and see the world at more than just a glance…as I am usually wont to do. I always figured that this ride was a race. Get as far as you can as fast as possible and damn the torpedos. All that. And maybe it is. Unfortunately, as I am stuck here in the mire for a bit, nothing else stands still with me. It all goes whizzing by at a much faster pace to me, because, I guess, I am in slo-mo for a while. But that’s okay too. It provides a perspective.

The latest docu-drama in Boston is hilarious to me here stuck in the center of the merry-go-round, and I cannot believe the voracious way that the public is tuned into it. It is a bonding narrative.  A fantasy that is as sick and twisted as the yiddish theater churned out by hollyweird every day…and with all the special effects, poor acting, lousy editing and a semi-happy ending that such theater can provide. The motive for this drama is obviously the same as for any theatrical piece put in a can in tinsle-town. Profit. For the director, the producer, studio bosses…and the all-important shareholders.
But you know this. It’s just that I am seeing in 3-D, Hi-def , 50fps Dolby surround sound…here in my ambulatory state. I have my silly glasses on and the story plays out on my computer screen like a really bad MST3000 flick. I am happy to provide the riffs. I am gleeful to make fun of the ‘tragedy‘ as others stare at me aghast at my lack of empathy.  As if any of it really happened as they filmed it. Of  course with each of these moving movies that ash-can-nazis release in their media, they get a little weirder and more, I dunno, transparent. At least to me.
I once saw the play “The Night Of  January 16th“, written by Russian jewess Alisa Zinov’yevna Rosenbaum(a.k.a. Ayn Rand). As with all jewish entertainment, it was written for audience response as opposed to a true expression of the author. Its gimmick was to present a mystery that had two endings. Which ending the company performed depended entirely upon the audience. As they sat as jurors, their verdict dictated last scenes. I thought a great deal about that play this week as I watched the Boston marathon ‘bombing’ movie in the media. 
You the audience were drawn into participating in this cheapnovel adaptation brought to the screen.
And you decided(within the scope of their intent)how it played out.
There are many unanswered questions in your head as you file out toward the lobby but there will be a sequel and a prequel for your amusement later on.  It will all make sense once they pen and perform these for your entertainment.
But that’s as may be.
At this point I just don’t seem to have as much energy to pick apart such  poorly written melodramas as I had just a few weeks ago. Thanks to my hiatus, I am enjoying watching the people in the cheap seats going “Hey…wait a minute!”, and putting two and two together to realize they have been bamboozled yet again.  

My physical red-flag has given me opportunity to relax and enjoy more and more of you awakening to the cheap theatrics of yet another(soon to be announced) false flag.  

The Four Of Cups…

I’m a pretty basic guy. I can fit in. I can observe rules for which I see an in-the-moment benefit. I don’t steal from others because I have too much shit as it is. I wear seat belts because it makes sense. Not because it is the law. I have a problem with law. I have a problem with other people telling me what I have to do…or not do, that should be of no concern to anyone but myself.  I have been like that for many years. Civilization. There has to be a better way. How long do we as a species, have to endure this hierarchical view of things? I dunno. This is cave-man shit. I hit Og with a big stick and I get to fuck his mate or eat his food.  I hit enough Ogs and I get to screw all the mates and have all the food I can eat.  But comes a time. Doesn’t it?  I mean I’m not even monetarily wealthy…and I’m tired of it all.  Materialism. Even I…not the brightest bulb in the string…can see it leads nowhere.  Wealth is nothing to aspire toward if all you intend to purchase with it is more ‘things’.  That is to say, wealth beyond the basic needs of shelter and food. But wealth can also buy power.  Like laws, I never saw the attraction of power either. But those that make our laws do. They understand that simple thing ‘hit Og with a stick’.

Not only do you get to screw his mate and eat most of his food…he will relent.  Because if he doesn’t, you will hit him with a stick again.  And then all the Ogs, fearing the stick, will cower in your presence.  Ok.  Then what?  Seems about as empty a resource for amusement as slaving to acquire more things.  Well, at least the things that the guy with the stick will allow you to have.  
So these simple human pleasures…wealth and power…are indeed that.  Simple. Childlike. Unworthy of any real effort to attain, for anyone with half a brain. I should know…I have about half. Even I can work this one out.
So those in power…the ones with the sticks…are simple minded cave men. Seems pretty logical to me. They are those that haven’t gotten beyond the materialism/hit-Og-with-a-stick thingy.  So what is so difficult about overthrowing(hitting them with a stick) these non compus menti? Well, sticks of course. They have them. In spades. 
But when and if all of us ‘Ogs’ decide at some point that we don’t want to be enslaved cowards huddling in the back of the cave where there is no food or heat, I think we better have a better idea about where our species should be headed. 


To me, it is a matter of durability. We humans don’t have much of it.
We are pretty delicate, when it comes right down to it.  We live three score and ten, generally speaking.  And the last ten suck big time. If we could only transplant our individual consciousness into more durable packaging…we could save ourselves a lot of trouble. Hitting me with a stick wouldn’t have quite the same impact if my body was made of titanium and guaranteed to last three thousand years without maintenance. But then again, no other ‘proto-human’ would have need to hit me or anyone.  Food and shelter would no longer be a necessity.  There would be no more ‘creature-comforts’ to long or slave for.  Along with our transition to this new package, we must lose a few things.  Emotion would top my list of things we could do without very well thank you. It seems that among the things that haunt our consciousness and worry us to death, can be our emotions. Better off without them if you ask me. They are among the ‘sticks’ that the head poo-ba has in his arsenal to smack us with. But you know that. Proto-humanity is a discussion for another day. 
Let’s get back to the here and now and how concerned we are with Kim Kardashian’s baby-bump. C’mon people. I wasn’t that concerned with my own wife’s wardrobe during gestation. I should turn on my talmud-vision and view Kim’s distended belly in designer fabric? I mean where are your brains? I wouldn’t concern myself too much about transferring such gray matter into titanium housings…natural selection being what it is, it probably wouldn’t take.
Someone told me that if there was a way to send a huge mirror into space…that we could look at it through a telescope and see our past.  Interesting idea. Not very practical, but a mind-bending notion.  That is what the four of cups is all about. Passing on the next drink. Bored to distraction with the material. Looking for other venues of discovery. 
Go figure… 

Map Time, Or ‘From A Distance’…

There was a song. A long time ago for most of you. From A Distance”. It has been covered a gazillion times and generally considered to be the bleeding-heart’s anthem. Along with “What a Wonderful World”. Never really cared for that type of socially reflective garbage. And considering that these “why can’t we just all get along” songs were written by ashkanazi jews…well, I think you see my ongoing point about the fantasy in which this tribe exists…and the irony therein.

But anyway, I have never been comfortable at all with this “New World Order” that everyone keeps warning us of. I am of a certain age now that I can see much more clearly than I used to. Granted, I need my contacts to do so. But “..in my mind‘s eye” I have gathered in a much different image of things than I had at say, 25 or so.  And that is why I keep screaming my head off here. Because of this veil lifted from my eyes, due to age and experience.

Bank of America

Look very carefully at these included maps, and tell me about a dystopian world that is ‘coming’. 
Honey….it is already here. And  while we were listening to a fat jewish whore crooning that the world needs to be fixed because it’s wonderful…well her tribe was well on their way to doing so. The fix is in. When I can’t drive 10 minutes in any direction without seeing an outlet for jewish commerce, I wonder how it is that it is going to get worse as yall predict. 
Many out here tell us of mass killings, and incarcerations that are going to take place. Hello? Look at the map of prison facilities.

Now, I don’t have to tell you who is raking in all the profits from all these little dots that we see “From A Distance”. And as far as killing us all with chemtrails and poison GMO crops…well, that might put a crimp on the Mickey-Dee‘s down the road(less than 10 minutes drive). Who would buy all their shit, deposit money in their banks, and watch the violent filth on their movie-house and TV screens?

Nope. This is pretty much what was designed. Of course I don’t even venture into the rest of the world…but if you just want to look into the filthy nest of the rodent…well, just drive down the highway. Zoom out. And zoom in. Play with the focus on that organ that keeps your ears apart. And don’t look to the future with fear. Look around you with HORROR.

 

Rest. Or Sitting In The Back Of The Class And Still Not Getting It

I do a lot of pontificating here. As if I had all the answers. Although I do have the correct answer to every question in the world…ninety percent of my answers will be “I don’t know”, and that would be the correct answer. 
But of the 10 percent that I think I do know, most is what people don’t care to hear. And that’s okay too. You don’t want to listen to me, don’t listen to me. I’ll still keep pushing that rock up the hill. It is what I do. 
When people tell me that Bobby Zimmerman is the greatest living poet of our time, or that Noam Chomsky has my best interest at heart, I just shake my head. When they tell me that white people of European heritage are being shat upon, I mutter to myself, “oh, dear”. When they sing the praises of Lenny Bruce or Adam Sandler, I cringe. When they tell me all cops are thugs with guns, I think “really?” When they say they have it all figured out and know that there really is a concerted conspiracy to kill or incarcerate us all, I gotta believe that maybe… just maybe… the logic there is a little bit faulty. But hey, who am I to question what they ‘know’.

When someone writes that “we are all part of a cosmic consciousness of eternal light between universal one-ness and the destiny of being”…or some such…I start twitching like I have bugs crawling on me, and think “What the fuck are you talking about? And how can you string all those words together in a single sentence that when completed means absolutely nothing in the English language with which I am familiar?”  Okay, I’m not a ‘metaphysical’ kinda guy, and maybe that is my problem. If I indeed have a problem. Okay, I don’t think I want to be a part of any group that is waiting for someone to lead us in our fight against anything. I’ll just wait here, if you don’t mind.

 I loved Bill Hicks’ humor…and would have been happy to have him over to dinner…but his head was full of  quite a bit of shit(which he readily acknowledged), and I wouldn’t have followed him anywhere. But he said one thing that dropped my jaw. And that was that his humor came from a simple concept…take anything out of popular culture and hold it up to the light of reason. A more profound observation was never made, if you ask me. A new golden rule. If we all followed this recipe for humor, I think we would benefit more than just to have a good laugh. But, of course you have to have reason to begin with. That is a rare commodity in this fantasy that permeates our species, created by the very popular culture that needs such a light shone upon it. So it is a damned-if-you-do kinda thing. Infinite regress. You can’t find your glasses because you need your glasses to see. That sort of conundrum. Is this a scheme? A plan by someone above this fantasy? Someone that wears contacts 24/7? Manipulating all of us looking for our glasses? Well, more of a mindset, I think. A modus operandi of those that direct the fantasy.
So you can either buy into the ‘too-pretty, too clever’ chimera, or you can call bullshit. Most lay down all their dead presidents.  I don’t have a lot of those. Nor do I have a lot of time left. I have been to the mountain top and I have seen my own mortality. Kinda.
Spooky thing. But somehow comforting to know that I won’t have to put up with the Bobby Zimmermans of the world too much longer.  I won’t have to endure people that know the whole conspiracy and are happy to detail it for me.  I won’t have to hear any more about ‘cosmic consciousness’. I won’t have to sit in a bar and be annoyed by a blaring-glaring television attached to the wall up by the ceiling…too far away to spill a beer on…and too close for my comfort.
And I won’t have to go on telling you all this. 

But until such time as I ‘merge with the eternal’, or whatever happens when the plug is pulled, I can hope it is just rest. A really long nap. Quiet, black, snuggly warmth from which no man returns.
No alarm clocks, cats screaming, trash trucks with  squeaky brakes. No sunlight hitting me right in the eye. Just eternal;whatever that means…(a LONG time, I hope) rest. 

As Seen On TV

Is no one immune? Besides myself, I can categorically claim that NO one I know….doesn’t watch television. From the most programmed to the ‘enlightened’…they all claim that “well, I just have this one show that I watch”. I can see it on their faces. I hear it in their pre-fab prurient humor. I see it in how they choose to live their very lives. It is like the gambler that discovers ‘tells’. Once you see that your opponent at the poker table always unconsciously plays with the ring on his finger when he has a good hand, it sticks out like the proverbial sore thumb. This tv addict will even lie about his tv habit as do most drug addicts. Knowing that it is a mundane entertainment venue for the brain-dead, most will use the “I only watch…” phrase out of sheer guilt.

Now I am not here to foist any more guilt upon you. Because I know you are one of those lying addicts. But I am here to comment on your addiction. I will venture the following:

If no one ever watched television, culled their movie habits, and refused to read anything in the papers other than the weather report(and even those are suspect), most of the problems of our modern world would grind to a halt and vanish. 

Pretty ridiculous, huh?  Such a claim. What am I, nuts? Well, perhaps…but let’s examine my postulate.  

From the above mentioned brain-dead to the enlightened, consider what they see as problems. Economics? War? Jobs? Crime? Politics? 
Well, of course these categories have many sub-headings…but there are problems in our world that we all see and seemingly can’t fix. We know of these problems because they effect us personally in our everyday lives. Or do they?  When is the last time a bunch of religious fanatics fired assault weapons at your house from the back of a Toyota pickup? You see it every day on tv. It must happen everywhere…and it must be stopped. If you join the army you can feel that you have had a hand in stopping it. How do you know this? Because you just minutes ago, saw a brave man in his dress military blues walking down the street of his home town while on leave, and all his friends and neighbors looking up to him in admiration. On TEEVEE. He must be doing the right thing with his life, AND he is getting paid for it.

Okay…okay. This is an extreme example. But what is it that is so difficult to understand about the glaring FACT that all media is propaganda packaged in puerile scat? ALL. Even that ‘one show’ that you watch is a fantasy. And not a good one.

I just watch this one show. “So you think you can dance”. I mean where is the harm? There was this one episode where this 8-year-old whose parents were in jail for something and he danced his heart out and I like voted for him like 17 times(you can do that…you can call in as many times as you want). And he won and now his parents are out of jail and he got a contract to dance on Broadway and I was part of his success.*




Are you serious? How can you live in this world of fantasy and still get through life?  Well the answer to that is that you don’t. Get through life that is. You are being pulled through it by your nose. 

I recently watched this film adaptation/condensation of Chris Hedges’ “Death of the Liberal Class”, called OBEY. This is to represent the views of possibly the most pro-active political thinker of our time. The man that sued O-bomb-a and actually won. The film pissed me off to no end. Besides being so gloom-and-doom that if one took it at face value, one would slit his wrists instantly…well, it and Hedges are SO right…and yet SO wrong.

There are two glaring ‘wrongs‘ that stick out like the above mentioned sensitive digits. One: not once in his book nor this film is even the suggestion to opt out of the medium by which the Corporate devil controls us all, mentioned. And two: the illusive perpetrators of the philosophy behind such Corpocracy remain unnamed as if they are just the ‘greedy elitists‘ among us. 
What Hedges got right obviously, is that since WWII, we are all  going to hell in a hand-basket. What he refrains from mentioning is WHO is carrying said basket, and how the hell to get out of it. I cannot help but think that with all the research this man has done that he doesn’t understand what philosophy lies at the root of such social sickness. By not naming the beast, his books, films and prescriptions are more or less ineffectual.  And will remain so. Like so many other ‘cautious’ writers and activists, they will stop short of naming said beast, and in the same breath condemn those that act out of ‘political correctness’ to protect their jobs. And they tell you that they have the snake-oil to solve your ills? 
Oh, please.

In his book and the film he is ready to inform you of propaganda and yet all he preaches is civil disobedience. Disobedience to what? To laws enacted through the very influence of said propagandized media. It baffles the brain. The lack of logic.
If you close your ears to those that would enslave you with their charm and their lies…you have won. If everyone opts out of such shit…the WORLD wins. And they that would control us, lose. That seems pretty simple to me. Odysseus resisted the sirens by NOT listening or looking at them. Surely we are so smart.
“Well how would I know what is going on if I don’t at least read a paper or catch the evening news”, I hear you saying. I guess, my answer to that is “why do you feel the need to know what is going on outside of your world?”  If some drunk runs over people in a parking lot outside a bar in Bumfuck, Iowa…exactly how does it benefit you to know about the details of such an occurrence? And don’t you know that the purpose of such sensation-driven ‘journalism’ is loaded? Loaded with VERY harmful ideologies. The very instant that you push the ‘on’ button. The very second that you pick up that Jew York Times…you have given them the power to enslave.
 

And who are these that would so harm? Well, as Voltaire told us, the ones that you cannot criticize. No matter who you feel those people are…they are the ones. I can guarantee one thing. They are the ones “As seen on TV”.  

 I have written many times about the inevitable positive aspects of our species, and how I foresee that we will indeed survive as a species, no matter what. I guess what I am saying here and now is…’when do you want it?’ Do you want to turn them off and see your grandchildren benefit. Or do you want to rely on the self-preservation instinct that I tell you will eventually overpower the TV-monsters?




*-paraphrased from Corner Gas