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Wednesday, September 28, 2011

And again, on a similar vein....


Until I reach my own ration of irrationality, I remain, yours truly...

With some rare exceptions, we all are vast repositories of unused, unexpressed thoughts that come to us at inopportune moments, moments when pen and paper or keyboards are either unavailable or inconvenient.  Thoughts that prey on us as we lie in bed or as we drive from one place to another are often lost to the conscious mind.  These are thoughts that warrant expression but remain locked in the shadowland of our individual cranial undergrounds, personal catacombs we maintain deep within our amazing computational expanses.

We write to get our thoughts out to where they might be noticed by other organisms who, like ourselves, carry their own burden of unexpressed expression smothered within their own singularities giving them the ability to appreciate the screamings of another similarly burdened creation.

The science fiction concept of "the Borg" is intriguing in its approach to reality. The question of how to tie together one to another in a mutual intellectual internet operating over the pathways given us even as they are hidden from us is one that warrants serious scientific inquiry.  Many of us believe the pathways are there.  They enable us to communicate as though through intuition.  We find ourselves thinking of another at the precise time when something which may remain undone is being thought of by the other person sitting or working alone at quite a different location.  Moments before the phone rings, we think of the caller.  Thousands of miles of separation are insufficient to prevent these communications, slight though they may seem.  How then might we discover and learn the code and the means to access this mode of information transfer?  Must the other person be thinking of us for the communication to happen?  Might we be able to learn to utilize another's internal database from afar?

I believe there is a way-- the question is how might we find it. 

Sven (an occasional nom-de-plum given to me by my friend Ricky Wallace)

11-30-2010 03:45 

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Morningbrain, the first--August, 2009

Morningbrain

Wake up, computer.  Give me my Word.  Why does the muse attack in the middle of the night?  4:18 AM it says and here I am.  Remember the Maine.  Remember the Alamo.  Remember the WTC.   Acceptance.  One last flight or a fiery, crushing death?  These are the thoughts that got me out of bed and brought this keyboard to life.  How do I reconcile these thoughts with a need to sleep and why does this happen at 4 in the AM?  Should I reach for my valerian?  Strike while the iron is hot.  Wife walks in complaining about dying to go to bathroom, crossing legs, thinking I am in the potty when there is no potty on my mind, just this.  Ho!  Dog walks in, goes under table and lies down.  Wife back, dog back.  Pet, pet.  Scratch, scratch.  Where’s remote—you dropped it on floor (thought I put it on side table.)  Find remote, start coffee water, back to this. 

Stop squinting; get glasses.  Back to it. 

OK, why 4:00 AM?  Combination of things, I guess.  Potty yes.  Went there first.  Perhaps the hydraulic overload started the restlessness that ended in wakefulness.  Remember…?  Mind moving when body returned to supineness.  Mind slow to catch up but hard to slow down when started.  Result is get up and satisfy mind or lie in bed and accomplish nothing—no sleep, no return to rest, no remembrance of thoughts which seemed so important before mind finally shuts down and allows return to sleep.  Reconciliation of understanding of process requires keyboard crank-up and sleep delay.  Back to thoughts.  I am sufficiently rested to feel rested.  Wakefulness is beginning and transition thoughts are still available.  To keyboard to capture and review.  In doing, if things go as they have in the past, sleep will become an option again after a bit of mental sorting of thought.  Coffee water ready.

Bin Laden, Mudd, Binjo ditch.  More thoughts returning.  Coffee in hand, look out brain, here comes the caffain.   No rhyme, no reason.   No reason, just rhyme.  Hagar, original separation, hate reigns.  Forgiveness, Acceptance.  Moslem, Christian, Jew.  Reorder.  Yahweh, Jew, Arab, Christian, Moslem.  Far East separate.  Differences breed contempt, hate.  Similarities ignored.  Infidels on all sides.  I yam what I yam.  It is what it is.  WC channeling, or remembered.  Bin Jo Laden, layden.  Communist, Christian, controller.  More hate.  Where is love?    How to put this all together?

                                                             
 BT

I guess it all started with Abraham, Sarai, and Sex.  Abraham and Sarai, (Sarah,) seemed to be having problems with Sex.  The problems were more conceptual than anything, so Sarai, in an effort to satisfy, provided Hagar.  Hagar complied with all that was asked, including the provision of a son for Abraham and all went well until Yahweh, acting in his own time, provided a second son at the “hands” of Sarah.  Wanting all that was best for her own son, Sarah had Hagar and son Ishmael banished.  Hagar then began the Arab dynasty and swore eternal enmity towards Abraham and his seed.  Today the Arab (and its progeny, the Moslem,) and the Jew continue this proud tradition.  Christians having sprung from Jews carry this blemish in the eyes of most Moslems and are tolerated by the Moslems only because of the occasional schema (crucifixions, etc) that from time to time arise and tend to separate Christianity from Judaism.

Extrapolate to present day and we end up with Bin Laden and his hatred of America.  Osama Bin Laden, full of himself and full of resources provided byYahweh via America in exchange for his country’s Yahweh-given resource, oil, looked upon the world situation and decided “hate America” was the best mantra around.  (To save ourselves a lot of excess verbiage we will heretofore accept as fact Yahweh’s supposed involvement in all human activity.)  Gathering together a group of young moslomic lions of like mind and mentality, Bin Laden conceived, garnered the needed finances, and implemented his scheme to improve the City of New York’s skyline by removing the two impediments to having its Empire State Building reign supreme.  Thus, the World Trade Center (and quite a few of its inhabitants) was removed by a small number of Hagar’s brood.  Hagar would undoubtedly have been proud as, according to popular belief, a considerable percentage of those unfortunates meeting their end that day were bound to have been direct descendants of her one-time master and prime impregnator, Abraham.  In giving himself this chestbuster, Bin Laden inadvertently gave America several thousand martyrs and one more rallying cry.  Add to “Remember the Alamo!” and “Remember the Maine!” “Remember 9-11!”   Also add, “Git Bin Laden,” “Bring it on,” and, of course, “Mission {not} accomplished.”  As spurs under the saddle go, Bin Laden was and is a prime example for one long, tall Texan.  It’s a pretty good spur for all Americans still, today.

With the mission of providing regime change in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Iran still hanging in balance, we Americans need to remind ourselves daily that the mission remains unaccomplished; that the scum continue to rule from beneath their rocks; and that we can and must win this one to secure our own security.  No More 9-11’s!  Say that again several times and perhaps a new American mantra may begin to be realized.   No More 9-11’s, period.  This fly has done bit us on the ass.  No matter how many swings it takes, we’d better swat it before it bites again.  Yes, we’ve begun swinging, but so far the fly is still there.  Swing some more.  Swing harder.  Hit harder.  Squash it flat.

When America was attacked after the war between the states, a phrase was coined, “your name is Mudd,” in recognition of the harm that comes from aiding and abetting our enemies.  Adding a bit of SEA remembrance, the middle name “Jo” might be given to Bin Laden.  Make that BinJo Laden.  If someone calls you BinJo (with or without the Laden) and you do not feel insulted, you need to go back to school.  Ask any Vietnam vet about binjo.  Or, ask a Vietnamese-American, or perhaps, Google-san.  Most of them, or their parents (if they are young,) will be happy to let you in on my little secret. 


If this is a war (and, make no mistake about it—it is) then we must accept that fact and act accordingly.  No more sending the needy and poorly franchised to do the bidding of all.  No more just sitting back and watching those who become on a daily basis the best of the best by their forced actions.  No more war by capitalistic proxy.  We all need to participate.  Bring back the E-Bond.  Bring back the Andrews sisters.  Bring back the draft.  It is not communism to accept the precept that when one hurts all hurt.  If we are to expect anyone to accept the call, we all must accept the call.  When one of us is being shot at, we all are being shot at.  And when one of us dies in the service of our country, we all die a little.

Old hatreds remain and they must be laid to rest by us (with the help of the One who put it all into play.)  We must do that to secure the blessings of liberty for ourselves and our children and our children’s children.  No More 9-11’s!

                                                             Fin
AR?


Time’s up.  It’s .  Maybe a little shut-eye before breakfast (dog’s OK, cats are out, ole dad’s up and fed, and my thoughts are on paper.  Acceptance and forgiveness?  Another time.

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Historical Note:  Unless you have just been released from long-term solitary confinement, you know Osama Bin Laden is history, having met his fate at the hands of our best-of-the-best Seal Team Six following a concerted effort to find him started during President Bush's term and completed during President Obama's term.  God Bless America. [ posts copyright stephen v geddes, per date of post]