Political Meth and Crop Circles

<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> 

Political Meth and Crop Circles


   Now a lot of you political junkies are used to pogblog’s political meth so don’t get whiplash withdrawal here. The whole point of the political hyper-alert and super-zing of synapses is to end up with our pretty planet being more just and generous and cheerful, saving savagery for satire and Grand Theft Auto. So we can end up having lots more art and lots more sloth. The greatest sloth for the greatest number. At least that’s a part of my subtext. Integrate lucid waking and lucid dreaming and enter the holospheric future that’s coming whether we like it or not. Clutching onto linearity and excess-stored wealth will look quaint in 50 years. Invest across the multi-dimensional boards in any-&-every thing holo.You’ll get rich in all the ways that matter. Really. The linears lose.   

     I like to think you find the best political invective on the planet on pogblog – what some nice person called an alloy of platinum and plutonium — but it’s meant to be usefully ruthless, not just jerkoff self-indulgent. Analysis should be bloody fascinating to read as well as ice-pick piercing. We’re not giving up on scathe and flay til we have a bountiful minimum wage, more sloth, and stop calling nationally-sanctioned child mutilation in foreign countries ‘collateral damage.’

    Luckily unlike the Wretched Fevered Theofascist Opposition, we can chew gum and walk at the same time. So I hope pogblog’s earned enough linear cred from you to give this crop circle entry a one-time try before you clik out. I know you think it’s all crap. But suppose it isn’t? The inescapable point is, is that it is the most glorious modern art on the planet however it gets here. At least go look once and then decide. You can go look and come back here or read this to inform your looking. Scroll down to the middle of the Crop Circle Connector page and clik on early July.

    So unclench your brain and let’s think energetics. Wheat and barley and butterflies and you and me and parrots all store and transform the energy, the radiance, of the central sun. We’re nifty alchemists on the hoof (cloven for the Republicans) or on the wing or in our kernels. Humankind and humanunkind have stored more knowledge energy per unit than ever before in ourstory. Part of the all-but-weightless massive and magnificent patterned energy accumulation is in our memories of art.

      Sometimes on a very hot day you can go outside and feel the pressure of sun upon yourself. Sometimes when I go to the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Museum of Modern Art and stand stunned in the room with Thiebault or Klee or Miro or Rembrandt or a Michaelangelo Pieta, I feel the pressure of the art upon me. My all-but-weightless mind stuff is impacted, is alchemically changed and rearranged but not of stuff on a periodic chart, but a stuff none the less also real.  

     The crop circles are pattern-stuff-shifters. Now, you can be more conscious of what’s happening to your self-substance when you engage with art and crop circles, or you can piffle out. We haven’t got instruments (other than our own brains and skin &c) to measure this all-but-weightless interaction yet, but we can attest to it. If you haven’t gone and looked at a dozen crop circles yet, do it now or you’ll dwell in unswell ignorance because we’re going to take a quantum leapfrog here.

      Now that you’ve seen the touching and glorious crop circles and been frankly amazed and startled and less dogmatic (unless you’re dumb or zomboid), consider that these astonishing and simply huge works of art tweak your dna. By seeing them, your energy absorption capacities, you as capacitor as it were, are spatially enlarged. The way I like to think about is that you can absorb or discern more colors of blue, say. As the Eskimos have 25 words for snow, you in collaboration with your fabulous space suit can operate in more ranges of ‘colors.’ The crop circles are like hieroglyphs (oneiroglyphs really) that impress or tattoo or brand your energy self with an increased alchemy-aesthetic capacity. This isn’t trivial. It allows you to arrange and form and transform much more data. Hamburger data, icecream data (i.e. kinesthetically stable data); emotional data (a different frequency that intellectual data); cultural data; and so on. You’re being eased into becoming a more super-bio-computer than you already fabulously are.

     The crop circles are part of the keys of flame that are igniting a quantum jump in spherical consciousness. To glimpse this, imagine any crop-circle as a crop-sphere and let it zephyrically rotate around you or if that’s too big a spheric leap, imagine it outside yourself as if that particular pattern were gently shifting like a spherical kaleidoscope. That way you can get more used to flying around in the upcoming energy like a parrot instead of cowering underground eating roots and dead spiders like a Republican or a mole.



If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of rage for justice, rage for peace material, please let me know at .. pogblog@yahoo.com


It’s an honor to have you visit pogblog. Do comment.


Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:




the pro-peace world begins today with you


5 thoughts on “Political Meth and Crop Circles

  1. It's as if a huge percentage of the planet walkers and talkers are actually blind. I guess like some people are color-blind — you see it, I see it, they just don't see it. So all these people are crop-spheres-blind. And like the world is lavish in color, I wouldn't have missed crop spheres for anything.
    I'm so glad you're explaining the spheres. Like a tree has roots which are usually as extensive as all the limbs, leaves, or needles, the crop-circle is the 'shadow' or the reflection of the sphere which is both above and below the ground.
    I've been following them for almost a decade and they still make me sweat.

  2. As sloth approaches maximum, the state of one's being approaches the inactivity of death. Would Mozart's music have been so sweet, if not for the crucible in which his talent developed as he hurtled toward not oblivion, but immortality? Can there be an artist without suffering and destruction? Can Dickens be understood in a world without want?
    When circles appear, I lament the lost crops, and look forward to the re-planting of aligned stalks, each the same distance from its neighbor. The kernels of the plants form a surface created by humans, a platform of civilization that survives the thunder and lighting of the summer. The sun hangs lower in the sky with each passing day — the stalks bend under the weight of the harvest, until we reap what we've sown. And the process begins again. I will take the majesty and production of a well-kept field, over the senseless chaos of crop-art.

  3. Gosh, Drake, other people's suffering always sounds so romantic. You people clearly prefer to harvest the FatHogist's share of the bounty of other people's labor. So let's squeeze art out of 'em too. Think of the art you could get in-between sessions with the rack! Abu Ghraib fingerpaintings if you leave them any fingers. Masterpieces of the Dentist Office. Suffering and art. Whooee, what a concept.
    Sandy Calder(mobiles) and Frank Gehry(Bilbao) led quite pleasing lives and, in spite of a galling lack of suffering, bloodlessly blew my brains out.
    TS Eliot was a banker and even sent across the Channel for Rabbit in Onion Sauce for his cats and managed to have physical comfort and assorted sufficient other suffering to produce deathless lines. Personally, suffering never taught me anything but that suffering sucks.
    Please, Drake, get a grip, one thing the crop-bending circles aren't is “chaos.” How carelessly thought by you. I venture to guess that perhaps you haven't left a lot of sweat in the majesty of a well-kept field? (Yes, *I* did. Grew up on a dairy farm. Aliens landed, but sadly no crop circles. They warned me to watch out for people who glorify the suffering and labor of others all the way to the bank.)
    I, also personally, find a near maximum of sloth sublime. And fiercely fruitful.

  4. But chaos is not the same as random noise. The curve of a leaf, the pattern of the weather, the turbulence of a rushing river. These are all chaotic, unpredictable, untamed. It is the difference between field and forest, road and ridge, or logic and intuition.
    It is the striving of humans to the straight line that enabled us to invent the implements of today's factory farm, so that the worker might ride a tractor rather than wield a scythe. Or that the industrial worker might program a machine, rather than take torch in hand to weld that fender in place.
    Follow the line, for the line will set you free. Abandon the curve, that merely brings you back where you started. That someone must be at the head of that line, is merely obvious, and the ones who choose the direction of the line more important than those who follow.

  5. Ah, the Geometry of Exploitation. Gosh, Drake, what gives me the heebie-jeebies is that you probably believe this stuff. People who imagine themselves choosing the direction of the line usually have such shared hallucinations.
    Luckily we workers know with Einstein that, in fact, all lines are curved — except the one leading to the Guillotine to which we haul you all in a tumbrel drawn by a labor-saving tractor and programmed for maximum efficiency of FatHogist Cogist vertebral displacement.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *