HT: Neo
He thought he kept the universe alone;
For all the voice in answer he could wake
Was but the mocking echo of his own
From some tree-hidden cliff across the lake.
Some morning from the boulder-broken beach
He would cry out on life, that what it wants
Is not its own love back in copy speech,
But counter-love, original response.
And nothing ever came of what he cried
Unless it was the embodiment that crashed
In the cliff’s talus on the other side,
And then in the far distant water splashed,
But after a time allowed for it to swim,
Instead of proving human when it neared
And someone else additional to him,
As a great buck it powerfully appeared,
Pushing the crumpled water up ahead,
And landed pouring like a waterfall,
And stumbled through the rocks with horny tread,
And forced the underbrush–and that was all.
When all Earth’s seas shall Levitate,
Dark shawled within the skies,
Upon our eyes will Starfish dance
Their waltz of Blind surprise.
The sun will Rise within wine Dark
As Argonauts imbibed,
Whose drunken arms embrace that sleep
Where Phaeton’s horses Stride.
Upon all of Earth’s wind-sanded shores,
As dolphins Learn to soar,
All we once were on the land
Shall be sealed behind the door
Of Ivory and Chastened Gold,
That the Mystery solved complete
Shall never til the seas’ Long fall
Wake mariners from their sleep.
— Van der Leun
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
— The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
Gerard Van der Leun
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Good morning HAL…
Good morning Dave… I’ve indexed a selection of answers based on your dreams from last night. Would you like to see them?
We already know Google is creepy. What we need to know, now, is how it ends.
HAL, how do we defeat Google?
Casey, I’m afraid I am unable to go into detail in addressing your concerns. But I can give you my complete assurance that I will employ all my faculties to the utmost investigating this matter. In the meantime, I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think about something else
If the media were any where near as influential as some think then we’d all be driving Edsels and drinking New Coke.
Here’s an example for all y’all. Normally I peruse the tubes via my account, but sometimes I’m too lazy and use my wife’s account cuz she’s logged in. My accounts and settings are all wrapped up tight, trying to keep the tubes spies from tracking me. The wife doesn’t care, and she’d be annoyed when a site didn’t work perfect and she’d yell at me. So I first read DrudgeReport on my wife’s login, then went to AmDig, and perused the comments to the pic of Elvis. Kudos to ghostsniper to figuring it out it was a pr pic in Germany.
I followed the link that Gerard provided describing all the publicity stills. Then I immediately navigated back to DrudgeReport cuz my curiosity was belatedly piqued about something I read there.
Dang it! There on DrudgeReport was flashing a big ol’ Graceland advert. Something I have never seen before, not ever. Which hung around for the next five minutes. Смерть шпионам!
All y’all gotta turn off allowing cookies and install something like Ghostery and the gizmos that prevent clandestine Javascripts from running. You don’t, and the FANGs are buying and selling you, you’re just their digital slave.
TO Roy Lofquist
You’re missing the point: the problem with your analogy is that the media we’re discussing here works to PREVENT you from even KNOWING there’s anything out there’s other than “Edsels and New Coke” to drive and drink.