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The science of cosmology has achieved wonders in recent centuries. It has enlarged the world we can see and think about by ontological orders of magnitude. Cosmology wrenched the Earth from the centre of the Universe, and heaved it, like a discus, into its whirling orbit around one unremarkable star among the billions that speed around the black-hole centre of our galaxy, a galaxy that floats in deep space with billions of others, all of them colliding and combining, before they fly apart from each other for all eternity. Art, literature, religion and philosophy ignore cosmology at their peril.

But cosmology’s hot streak has stalled. Cosmologists have looked deep into time, almost all the way back to the Big Bang itself, but they don’t know what came before it. They don’t know whether the Big Bang was the beginning, or merely one of many beginnings. Something entirely unimaginable might have preceded it. Cosmologists don’t know if the world we see around us is spatially infinite, or if there are other kinds of worlds beyond our horizon, or in other dimensions. And then the big mystery, the one that keeps the priests and the physicists up at night: no cosmologist has a clue why there is something rather than nothing.

To solve these mysteries, cosmologists must make guesses about events that are absurdly remote from us. Guth’s theory of inflation is one such guess. It tells us that our Universe expanded, exponentially, a trillionth of a trillionth of a trillionth of a second after the Big Bang. In most models of this process, inflation’s expansive kick is eternal. It might cease in particular parts of the cosmos, as it did in our region, after only a fraction of a second, when inflation’s energy transformed into ordinary matter and radiation, which time would sculpt into galaxies. But somewhere outside our region, inflation continued, generating an infinite number of new regions, including those that are roaring into existence at this very moment.

Not all these regions are alike. Quantum mechanics puts a slot-machine spin on the cosmic conditions of every region, so that each has its own physical peculiarities. Some contain galaxies, stars, planets, and maybe even people. Others are entirely devoid of complex structures. Many are too alien to imagine. The slice of space and time we can see from Earth is 90 billion light years across. Today’s inflationary models tell us that this enormous expanse is only one small section of one tiny bubble that floats along in a frothy sea whose proportions defy comprehension. This vision of the world is wondrous, in its vastness and variety, in the sheer range of possibilities it suggests to the mind. But could it ever be proved?

READ THE WHOLE THING @ Will we ever understand the beginning of the universe? | Aeon Essays HT: Ol’Remus

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Illegals scamper towards Canada. One free ride ends. Another free ride begins.

Canada may soon elect somebody who promises to build a wall on its southern border:

“Saint-Bernard-de-Lacolle. 1,477 people live in this little corner of Quebec with its apple orchards, elderberry fields and small wineries. But now 400 migrants can cross the border in a single day.

“On the other side of the border is New York. There the language is English. In Saint-Bernard-de-Lacolle, the language of choice is French. But these days you’re a more likely to hear Arabic, Urdu or Haitian French being spoken here as Roxham Road fills with clots of migrants scampering out of America.

“They’re not the leftist American celebs who threaten to leave for Canada if their side doesn’t win the election. Instead they’re the illegal and dubiously legal who got the message from President Trump.

“The overloaded Mounties at the border crossing are being forced to cope with the jabbering illegals, grifters and fake refugees of Trump’s migrant surge. But where Obama’s migrant surge swelled America’s southern border with incoming migrants, Trump’s migrant surge is expelling them north.


If Canada believed in omens….

“The Syrians, or anyone claiming to be, are coming. So are the Sudanese, Somalis and Haitians. This is an informal border crossing and so the rules that might protect Canada from this horde don’t apply.

“Quebec has become the weakest link in the Canadian border with the vast majority of border migrants invading the “True North” through vulnerable points like the dead end of Roxham Road.”

Canada’s Open Borders Policy as seen at Roxham Road

RTWT @ Sultan Knish: The Invasion of Canada

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Interesting to see how different video creators put images together behind this classic monologue by the late Bill Hicks from 1992.

“The world is like a ride at an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it, you think it’s real, because that’s how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round and it has thrills and chills and it’s very brightly colored and it’s very loud. And it’s fun, for a while.

Some people have been on the ride for a long time, and they begin to question: ‘Is this real? Or is this just a ride?’ And other people have remembered, and they come back to us and they say ‘Hey! Don’t worry, don’t be afraid — ever — because… this is just a ride.’ And we kill those people.

‘Shut him up! We have a lot invested in this ride! Shut him up! Look at my furrows of worry; look at my big bank account, and my family. This has to be real.’ It’s just a ride. But we always kill those good guys who try and tell us that — ever notice that? — and we let the demons run amok. But it doesn’t matter, because… it’s just a ride, and we can change it any time we want. It’s only a choice. No effort. No worry. No job. No savings and money. Just a choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your door, buy bigger guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love, instead, see all of us as one.

Here’s what we can do to change the world, right now, into a better ride. Take all that money we spend on weapons and defense each year and, instead, spend it feeding, clothing and educating the poor of the world, which it would do many times over — not one human being excluded — and we can explore space together, both inner and outer, forever. In peace.”

It’s not wrong to have good ideals but it would be interesting to know how Hicks would reformulate this today in light of the woeful history of the 21st Century to date.

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Glittering Rant-O-Matic of the Moment


“Not content to merely play the role of Emanuel Goldstein with a wink and a nod to the Democrats and their Media overlords, with the victory of Donald Trump, their hatred of this man and by extension we who elected him has caused this group of supine stooges to actually lose their minds. John McCain, Mitt Romney and Marco Rubio are consciously and willingly helping to mainstream the ranks of Democrat-protected and funded terrorists and anarchists while blood-libeling we the people and the President as racist crackpots. It would be bad enough if these three bastards were merely backbenchers from a battleground state. They’re not; they are leaders of the party and presidential candidates, two of whom were nominees. In the name of God, do you not know what you’re doing?! Are you that spiteful and greedy as to not understand the goals and motivations of the people with whom you have just jumped into bed?!”  – – Ace of Spades HQ

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One Line and a Link

Every normalization of extremism equally normalizes the extremism of the opposite side. Sultan Knish: Weimar America

Just because the Summer of Love took place 50 long years ago, well before most of you were born — before 60 percent of the country was born — nobody should get the idea that it’s something irrelevant, some dim event from antiquity like the Wars of the Roses or the Annexation of Guam.   Flowers in Their Hair: The Summer of Love, 50 Years Later | The Weekly Standard

A people without history / Is not redeemed from time Four Quartets – 4 Little Gidding

Now, when I see someone burn an American flag I no longer have to reflect on the whole purpose of the First Amendment and freedom of speech, I can (and should) as dictated by the Charlottesville Doctrine, stomp their head in. Christian Mercenary: The Charlottesville Doctrine

University cancels event called ‘The Stifling of Free Speech on University Campuses’ Friday morning links – Maggie’s Farm[Best Links Collection]

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Confederate monuments: So what? Now What?

“A people without history / Is not redeemed from time” — Eliot

Let us suppose every public statue or monument to the Confederacy is removed as fast as their opponents want. “So what? Now what?” Who exactly will be better off? Black unemployment will be unchanged. The risk of horrific war with North Korea will not be lowered. The near-total breakdown of civility in our political life will not be improved. The inability, indeed, unwillingness, of the parties in Washington to come together to govern well will not increase. Obamacare will continue to fail and there will continue to be nothing on the docket to replace or repair it. Al Qaeda will still attempt to carry out the attacks it recently promised against mass-transportation means in the United States.What difference will it make, exactly?

RTWT: @ Sense of Events: Confederate monuments: So what? Now What?

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 “To Removers of Monuments”

To Removers of Monuments

Those impassive, silent guardians – will their gaze no longer shame you?
Have they been forever banished? Are you sure?
Can you finally stroll in comfort streets bereft of all reminders?
Is their valor gone, as if it never were?

Spiteful children! Did it gall you that someone so loved, respected these,
Enough to raise their monuments on high—
And you know you’ve never earned any respect, and never will,
And your blog will be deleted when you die?

“Ingrate, vandal, ignoramus,
Meddler, coward, bully, fool”
Those are titles your pedestal might bear,
Were your legacy preserved, beyond the web and your own minds –
But I doubt it will last too long even there.

~Joe Long

Via Never Yet Melted » “To Removers of Monuments”

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Alan Tate’s “Ode to the Confederate Dead”

The Gray and the gray. “Confederate veteran reunion, Washington, 1917”

Row after row with strict impunity
The headstones yield their names to the element,
The wind whirrs without recollection;
In the riven troughs the splayed leaves
Pile up, of nature the casual sacrament
To the seasonal eternity of death;
Then driven by the fierce scrutiny
Of heaven to their election in the vast breath,
They sough the rumour of mortality.

Autumn is desolation in the plot
Of a thousand acres where these memories grow
From the inexhaustible bodies that are not
Dead, but feed the grass row after rich row.
Think of the autumns that have come and gone!–
Ambitious November with the humors of the year,
With a particular zeal for every slab,
Staining the uncomfortable angels that rot
On the slabs, a wing chipped here, an arm there:
The brute curiosity of an angel’s stare
Turns you, like them, to stone,
Transforms the heaving air
Till plunged to a heavier world below
You shift your sea-space blindly
Heaving, turning like the blind crab.

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Labyrinthine Linkapalooza

Over 3,000 millionaires have fled Chicago in recent months. This is the largest outflow of wealthy people from any US city right now. It’s also one of the largest outflows of wealthy people in the world. But it’s not just millionaires. Every five minutes someone leaves Illinois. The people who leave are generally better educated, more skilled, and earn more money than those who stay. Illinois is the most financially distressed state in the US. Every month, it spends $600 million more than it takes in. It’s now $15 billion behind on its bills and counting. Woodpile Report

After about nine months of intense peer conflict, attrition would grind the U.S. armed forces down to something resembling the military of a regional power. The Army, for example, would be armed primarily with infantry weapons with heavy firepower coming from gun trucks and a trickle of modern equipment acquired from struggling domestic production and whatever logisticians could scrounge up on the world market. This state of affairs arises because the U.S. government has not thought seriously about industrial mobilization. It is far easier to bask in warm memories of World War II than to face the harsh choices that mobilization preparation entails. — It Won’t Be World War II Again

The Google archipelago :   With traditional religion already washed from the brains of the young, we would now be swept by the new religion of the electronic mob. It could have no anchor. Words themselves would humpty-dumpty at a greatly accelerated pace. The great mass of the deracinated were, in a sense, passing outside time. Henceforth they would live only in the present, with no conception of the past; and too, no appreciation of the future. They would cease to feel responsible for the consequences of their acts.

For morality would be reduced to opinion, and opinion dictated by the electronic mob. The “winners” in the new political order could only be the purveyors of fashion; and fashion is on the Left. This has been so since the French Revolution. Style means Left; Right means outmoded.

The Theory of Diversity Explained – William M. Briggs Race or any of the fashionable victim statuses may and must be substituted for sex. Further, race doesn’t exist. This is why strict mandatory quotas based on race must be enforced, to teach people that race doesn’t exist. There are thus no differences among people based on race. Yet Diversity is our strength, so ensuring quotas based on race, which doesn’t exist, will make outcomes better, outcomes which must be the same, since there is no such thing as race, therefore there can’t be differences in performance among peoples of different races. This is why Diversity is our strength. [click to continue…]

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Days of the Locust

“Black people who were never slaves are fighting white people who were never Nazis over a confederate statue erected by Democrats because Democrats can’t stand their own history anymore.. yet somehow it’s Trump’s fault.” — Jeff Laffite Jones 

“We must disenthrall ourselves.” – Lincoln

Whenever humans seek to perfect the imperfect world either progress or regress may be the result, but regardless of result, evil ensues.

Whenever a class of people, self-anointed, seek to impose Utopia on the world, evil ensues.

Whenever a group of people seek to arrogate the power of the people to themselves, evil ensues.

It is not that power corrupts but that some people are compelled to corrupt democratically distributed power through statist centralization and media manipulation. If the age of kings was the age of rule by one monarch, the current age drifts towards the rule of many much much smaller kings acting in unison.

This is the age of the Mini-Monarchists; of rule by the faction of “Little Hitlers.” Their accoutrements are not uniforms and stark symbols, but cap & gown, press passes, Twitter flutters, and union cards.

Their collective policy and plan for the nation is plague.

All faction, no matter its origin or ideals, is in the end Fascist. The Founders knew Faction and feared it. Much of the Federalist Papers is taken up with the problem of suppressing Faction and the Constitution is the carefully wrought attempt at a solution to it. Of course, the Founders also knew that Faction as Fascism is never finished except by fire and fire alone. This is why, in the Founders founding document, the Declaration of Independence, they included this provision,

“when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.”

As the Founders knew from their own experience, this is much easier said than done. Sustaining such a government was even harder. Benjamin Franklin at the close of the Constitutional Convention of 1787 when queried as he left Independence Hall on the final day of deliberation:

“Well, Doctor, what have we got—a Republic or a Monarchy?”

“A Republic,” Franklin replied, “if you can keep it.”

One can witness, daily, new attempts at usurpations of power and overturning free elections as the current matched set of “ruling elites” tries to undo the will of the People and plunge the country into anarchy. Indeed, it seems that there is little in American political life that has not, since November, had some appointed group of malign Faction assigned to it for purposes of some dubious transformation. On every hand, “news show,” social media platform, and elsewhere one witnesses an endless stream of baseless vituperation and spite aimed at overturning the ship of state.

H.L. Mencken, no stranger to real politic in the United States once put it this way, “Democracy is the theory that the common people know what they want, and deserve to get it good and hard.”

An American president during the shooting phase of the last Civil War put it this way:

“Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman’s two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said “the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.”

Abraham Lincoln: Second Inaugural Addressß

And deeper still into history we can remember another time of great plagues:

And Moses stretched forth his rod over the land of Egypt, and the LORD brought an east wind upon the land all that day, and all that night; and when it was morning, the east wind brought the locusts.

And the locust went up over all the land of Egypt, and rested in all the coasts of Egypt: very grievous were they; before them there were no such locusts as they, neither after them shall be such.

For they covered the face of the whole earth, so that the land was darkened; and they did eat every herb of the land, and all the fruit of the trees which the hail had left: and there remained not any green thing in the trees, or in the herbs of the field, through all the land of Egypt. — Exodus 10

In both instances the only solutions that could be found was not greater control of the people by the faction, but greater freedom for the people from all faction. And until they found that freedom again, the plagues only continued. [click to continue…]

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One-Liners in the Labyrinth

“Black people who were never slaves are fighting white people who were never Nazis over a confederate statue erected by Democrats because Democrats can’t stand their own history anymore.. yet somehow it’s Trump’s fault.”  Jeff Laffite Jones / GAB


If your cover is depicting rabid Nazis and mobster bloodbaths, red dresses go better than blue calico. Vintage Pulp Fiction |

A progressive movement that has routinely regarded the pacification of Vietnam, Iraq or Cuba as uneconomical must surely realize the suppression of half of America is infeasible. Must win.

I have a suggestion: How about EVERYONE including the Federal government stops teaching everyone to think about race all the time? A Message to the Children of the Revolution: Grow Up! | 

Artisan china is the kind of thing successful, educated, refined people expect their upscale meals to be placed on, but they probably never wonder where it came from or who made it — or whether or not the worker had a “peculiar” accent or more than a high-school education. Judgey about the way people dress? You’re killing America | New York Post

Just as the dinosaurs never disappeared, just took to the air, totalitarianism survived WW2 by taking to the academy. – – Wretchard T. Cat

He lived for 27 years completely alone in the woods of Maine and didn’t even light a fire in winter; did not have a single conversation with another person in that time. Woodpile Report

When they arrest him using a warrant from some judge no one has heard of, then likely it will be time for war. – – Jim’s Blog

Fascists are bad even if those fascists swill kombucha tea, bike to work at a Mountain View campus, and spew ridiculous mottos like “Don’t be evil.” – – Kurt Schlichter

Daniele can transform a pumpkin into a phoenix or a fruit into a delicate flower with a single knife and a whole lot of imagination.   Food And Art

Crown shyness is a naturally occurring phenomenon in some tree species where the upper most branches in a forest canopy avoid touching one another.   Colossal

All hyphenated ethnic nationalism is the product of the Democratic party: black nationalism, Hispanic nationalism, Asian nationalism, Arab nationalism; the Left owns all of the hyphens. MOTUS A.D.

We are in a self-made political prison and the hyphens have become our prison bars. Breakdown

Hauling ass on a race course, instead of hauling a wife, 2.3 children, and a dog merits the same interior decoration: none.  – BSBFB

Because the communists defeated the Nazis in WW2, they successfully defined themselves as being anti-fascist, and the left has been dining on this lie ever since. One Cʘsmos

The reason Google has to fire their smart men is their mere presence calls into the question the diversity project.  The Z Blog

At Myrtle Beach’s Wacky Golf, he captured a dinosaur marauding through a landscape crowded with a windmill, a sphinx, a church, and an assortment of cacti.  – Atlas Obscura

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“Can you tell me, please, who won?”

“Wooden Ships” is a song written and composed by David Crosby, Paul Kantner, and Stephen Stills, of which versions were eventually recorded both by Crosby, Stills & Nash and by Jefferson Airplane; Kantner was a founding member of the latter team. It was written and composed in 1968 in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, on a boat named the Mayan, owned by Crosby, who composed the music, while Kantner and Stills wrote most of the lyrics…..

The words of the song depict the horrors confronting the survivors of a nuclear holocaust in which the two sides have annihilated each other. A man from one side stumbles upon a man (or woman, as in Jefferson Airplane’s version) from the other side and asks him/her, “Can you tell me, please, who won?” Since the question has no real meaning in the circumstances or even at all, it is left unanswered. To stay alive, they share “purple berries”, as a result of which they “haven’t got sick once” (iodine pills, which protect against radioactive iodine-131 in nuclear fallout). The lyrics beg “silver people on the shoreline,” described by David Crosby as “guys in radiation suits,” to “let us be.”[1] As the wooden ships, devoid of metal that would become radioactive from neutron activation, are carrying the survivors away from the shores, radiation poisoning kills those who have not made it aboard. That grim tableau is described thus:
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Picking the Liplocks of the Labyrinth

Peter Duke Photography – World Class Images For Discriminating Clients

Siberian mystery: In 1908 the most powerful explosion in documented history flattened millions of tree  Regardless of the absence of details, scientists have managed to reach a sort of consensus: any remnants from the stellar body that penetrated into Earth’s atmosphere disintegrated to dust within the turbulent collision process. This probably happened 10 miles above the ground, maybe little less or more than that. The collision of the object with the atmosphere of our planet had been so engaging that it instantly resulted in intense heat and shockwaves, all felt miles away from the impact point. Airburst subsequently dispersed on the ground, which is when the trees in the area ended up flattened.

New York Minimum Wage Increase Gives Birth to the First Fully Automated Bar & Grill   For starters locales across the country have hiked – and continue to raise – the minimum wage. The rate is expected to top out at $15 an hour in New York state in the next few years.It’s already jumped $2.50 the last two years to $7.50 an hour for servers working at L.I. Pour House. The self-service technology used by the restaurant has helped keep operational costs in check. “If you needed five or six servers on a normal night, now you need four,” Pallino said. He estimates that an electronic server saves thousands of dollars a year.  In addition, the technology serves as something of a buffer against worker shortages that recently have plagued fast casual and quick service restaurants around the country. When staff vacancies exist, kiosks and other self-service solutions can be difference-makers in preventing significant operational disruptions.

Butter shortage is a ‘major crisis’ in Europe   The shortage in Europe is so severe that the European Commission’s Milk Market Observatory says that butter stockpiles across the continent have been decimated by 98%.
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Cruising for Food at Ten Bucks a Bite

“Every woman in America seems to have gotten the personally addressed memo concerning very tight jeans and/or leggings.”

Sunday afternoon is the time I spend shopping for the week’s basic groceries, as well as for those items that have to be prepared from ingredients as fresh as can be obtained in the present day supermarkets. These present day supermarkets are, if you’ve been on the planet longer four decades, breathtaking in the kinds of packaged foods, fresh meat and seafood, and fresh produce.

In these cathedrals of commerce it seems that every month more and more items from throughout the world are on offer. Ghee! You can now buy ghee in jars. It is true that some special cheeses seem to be coming in at $40 per pound and that the one ounce package of sliced dried mandarin oranges works out to $65 a pound. These items are there if you are so drenched in disposable income that nary a thought of the price to value absurdity of it all can emerge to shimmer the surface of your seething cranium.

From blackberries air-dropped from Peru and pre-stuffed Turducken’s in the freezer rows to the “local sustainable organic” food items that are four times the price of their more plebeian corporate varieties, the sheer variety is staggering to someone who can remember when an orange in the toe of one’s Christmas stocking was a very hard to obtain and expensive fruit for that season.

Besides these somewhat obvious but always striking impressions of how America fares in its current position as the top of the food chain, three other things struck me as I went to three, yes three, different supermarkets on this fine Seattle afternoon in late Spring of the year of our Lord 2014.

First, as a friend remarked a couple of weeks ago, “Every woman in America seems to have gotten the personally addressed memo concerning very tight jeans and/or leggings. This includes the 90% of American women who, if caught dead in them, would die; and yet they too seem to have joined the Cult.”

Second, while a cooling long hot summer brings out a very fine parade of nubile ladies in various stages of revealing and “en déshabillé” clothing, it also reveals Winter’s crop of thoughtless, tasteless, and usually revolting fresh tattoos on areas of the body heretofore thought untattoable. One unfortunately memorable one seemed to be located at above the “tramp stamp” position and was a kind of winged velociraptor baby with a bloody beak breaking out of an egg. It gave one pause.

And then one walked on.

Third was the advent of a new parting phrase from supermarket cashiers. Usually they enquire as to the manner in which your day is going, something to which I invariably answer with an upbeat “Great. Thanks for asking” just to be polite. The ringing up of one’s groceries then takes place and one pays, as one pays for most things in today’s suddenly cashless society, with a debit card. Then the receipt whirrs out of the machine at the end, after it has transmitted the contents of your cart to the supermarket’s headquarters, the local police, and the host of three letter interested parties in the government, and the cashier usually just thanks you by name after glancing at the receipt.

Today this was as it always is but with the addition of the trenchant phrase, “Thanks for coming in.”

Three different cashiers at three different supermarkets on three different levels of retail demography — working class, middle class, and upper middle class — all saw fit to say the exact same phrase, “Thanks for coming in.”

An alien visitor to our planet might think that’s simply a coincidence of phrasing, but I take it to be the beginning of some bit of customer-stroking fluff that depraved retail consultants started telling their corporate customers in order to have something to justify their many, many thousands in annual consultant billings. They probably came up with some study that showed that of every 100 customers that you said “Thank you for coming in” 15% more came in again.

It’s bullshit of course, but retail and marketing in the food industry needs a constant stream of fresh bullshit if it is to keep its profit line up. Just as things done to transmogrify kale work as this year’s chipotle, so does “Thanks for coming in” operate as the new “Have a nice day.”

Listen for it at a supermarket near you.

Soon to be a major motion picture.

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Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Declare, if thou hast understanding. — Job 38

 

So elsewhere I’ve been drawn into, for the X times infinityest time, yet another discussion about God. You know, the ones that go…

Is He this? Is She that?
Is God’s “morality” thin or fat?
Does He wear a halo or a hat?
Does He care if you crush a gnat?
Can you see Him?
Could you be Him?
If He tells you to kill your kid
Would you do what Abraham did?

All the usual suspects show up
With all their suspect notions.
Some come to sell you a Bible.
Some come to sell you a potion.
Some come to sell you a bottle
Of the very best Atheist lotion.

In short, when it comes to God — as we learn in the Holy Book of Dylan — “Everybody wants to get you down in the hole that they’re in.”

Me? I’m a believer because… well because I’ve really got Nothing. Better. To. Do. That’s because measuring myself against even the smallest, most finite, and bounded idea of God I can conceive I’m about gnat size in relation to that Everest. I wish others saw it that way, but among the smart monkeys most of us think of ourselves as some sort of gigantic intellect — at least in comparison to, say, a clam. Interesting that the “intelligent” who are long on stupidity are always short on humility.

The point is that smart monkeys (aka Human Beings) are, deep down, stupid and shallow in anything that even starts to compare us to the Creator. At best we’ve been granted a small, dim sense of the smudge left by the passing shadow of the afterimage of Creation and are forever limited to that. We cannot go beyond it. For us there is no outside looking in. We simply don’t have the wetware.

For many smart monkeys this vague, haunting sense is such an insult to their small monkey mind’s ego that they cannot endure the humiliation. And so they deny what little light they have and turn, turn away. It’s futile of course but so many now are so afflicted that they find, with each other, small and cold comfort in numbers.

It’s a shame that in this brief Grace-granted glimpse of the Immense Light between a sleep and a sleep that so many shut their eyes to the unfolding Miracle of each Moment, and think, poor little monkeys, that since none of it is about them none of it needs to be seen as it is — glorious, compassionate, incomprehensible, and indifferent. They actually think … no they actually “believe”... that the Creator should not be beyond their good and evil; that the moral life of Creation should reflect our dim and limited mind.

Given the Gift of Life they use it to curse the Giver.

Poor fools. Poor prideful fools. Poor little limited semi-smart monkeys. Pick a fight with God? All their puny arms together are still too short to box with God.

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Saturday Review of the Labyrinth


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“I’m sorry too, Dimitri. I’m very sorry. Alright! You’re sorrier than I am! But I am sorry as well. I am as sorry as you are, Dimitri. Don’t say that you are more sorry than I am, because I am capable of being just as sorry as you are. So we’re both sorry, alright? Alright.” — President Muffley on the phone with Premier Kissoff in “Dr. Strangelove”

 

I begin by noting that at present, as so often in the past, I’m sorry. Yes, I am very, very sorry. It was all my fault and I am sorry for it all.

I am sorry, as always, for what I said. It was thoughtless and rude. It wasn’t really what I meant or felt in my heart. Many have taken my remarks to mean other than what I said. Why, I even meant them to mean other than what they meant when I said them.

Well, the damage is done and I can’t undo the past. All I can do is stand here strapped in the pillory of the present as all those whom I have so wrongly and without malice slandered cry like the little girly-men they are, even the girls. But their pain is now my pain. I cringe to see them writhe with the bleeding agony of those raw wounds I ripped open by my harsh and unconsidered remarks.

I feel really bad about this. I feel even worse that I, through my abject failure to realize how deeply the dull hatchet of my speech would chop into them, even, yea, down to the living blue-veined bone — that I simply stood by and allowed the burning salt of my senseless scorn to pour without limit into their raw and festering souls. I am, as I said, deeply sorry and feel bad besides.

In passing, I would like to note for the record, that I did not know the gun was loaded.

But I have heard the rising torrent of justifiable outrage; the howls of those whose most sacred, festering and inane ideological beliefs I have eviscerated with the senseless whirring chain-saw of my words. To them I offer, in deep and abject humility — since I am, because I spoke those words, lower than a cockroach’s stool stuck to the bottom of a homeless hermit’s shabby sandal in the storm drains of Las Vegas — my most sincere if unworthy apology. I have heard the skin-shuddering shrieks of those who have been sliced into bloody gobbets of flesh by my remarks. Though I am unworthy to feel that pain, I feel it still as if it were a red-hot 3/4 inch Makita drill bit driven into the base of my skull and left there set on “Wash-Rinse-Repeat.”

We live in such a craven, soft, moist and testosterone-lite society that it would be wise to always be apologizing for something you either have said or may say. In America these days we are a bunch of sorry sons-of-bitches — male or female — and we’d best be saying we’re sorry all the time.

So, well, I am sorry. I apologize. I didn’t think about what I said when I said it. I hurt feelings when all I meant to do was to either maim, kill, or tenderize. I deeply regret that I diminished your self-esteem. I regret even more that I left you alive and able to talk to the news media over the noise of your sucking chest wound.

But since that is the case, please accept these following sentiments as my boilerplate apology, and remember to refer to them often in the decades to come:

I come to you today penitent, conscience-stricken, regretful and contrite. I have been touched by your pain and deeply regret my words. I repent them with every shred of my soul. I am, for having hurt your feelings and bruised your tender buttons, a base and abject man mortified by my cheesy, contemptible, insignificant,. shabby, small, and pathetic being. I know now the low things I have said and I am filled with remorse, melancholy, and self-reproach. If I could have myself flogged fleshless by an flock of Carmelite nuns on Methamphetamine I would so. But I can’t locate those sisters right now, so I must continue to apologize.

I therefore continue to apologize.

I am so wretched to have said the bad words to you. They may well have been true, but I forgot that your feelings, no matter how puerile, always trump the truth in this world. So I admit that even though they were true, my words were unworthy of me and hurtful to you. I see your raw suppurating feelings oozing to the top of your mind and erupting from your mouth wrapped around your screams. I shall carry that Polaroid with me for the rest of my days right next to the organ donor card in my wallet. Can I fill one out for you?

But I digress.

I am compelled by my inner idiot to say that I bleed for you, wish only to console you, empathize with you, and open my heart in an anguished lament that my words, wittingly or unwittingly, have raised upon your soul these unlanced boils of your metaphysical angst. It is my hope you will allow me to lance them and to bandage them in the saline soaked cloth of a this apology.

I come before you today an abashed, chagrined, conscience stricken, guilty, shamed, demeaned, crestfallen, humiliated, penitent and mortified man. I can only seek, humbly, that one thing that will make me whole again after ripping the flesh of your feelings so senselessly. That one thing is the infinite balm of your acceptance of this, my guilty apology, and your forgiveness.

In this I hope to be resurrected to the realm of the acceptably human. I live in this hope because I have a deep and abiding faith that although I am really, really sorry, you are the one person in the universe who is a sorrier son-of-a-bitch than I am.

Thank you for letting me share.

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Now VGER/Voyager


“Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip it’s been.” — Truckin’

Thrown free of Earth 40 years ago, these two Voyagers will outlast us, our silly and desperate politics, our children, and our children’s children down the ages; will outlast our nation, our species, perhaps our planet and our sun…. and still be going strong and still be only beginning their voyage….
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Loose as a Goose in a Greased Labyrinth


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