Author Archives: wendy fleet

Z Project .. the unholy grail .. guerilla actions v. Religious Totalitarianisms

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Z Project .. the unholy grail .. guerilla actions v. Religious Totalitarianisms

 

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                                                                                   ealaindraoi

 

from our palaver of evening  tuesday

 

   memo to diGrif re random parameters of Z Project; (life is a run-on sentence, by the way); what are the elements of the Scamliar fortune cookies? How, without being as goldplated a jerk as they, can one stop, unhinge, deflate, penetrate the 2000-year-old juggernaut of Institutionalized, packaged Christianity as this pious platitudinous they-get-to-assail-you and if you jolt-back, they cry foul thing?

   One could probably pretty easily bite their ankles and/or just stab them so they ffffing bleed to death, and that is a Temptation, but the larger point is to icepick or to rapier it so they ‘get it’ and they know that you haven’t eschewed what — dignity? just to get them to Please Ffffing Jesus Shut Up with their tedious arsenically offensive proselytizing. Punch them in the damn nose? stamp on their holier than thou carcasses until they’re jellified?  Satisfying but not the unholy grail we’re looking for.

   Institutionalized Christianity is such a bane on the hyenaic rump of the world’s hope to have fun and build cool stuff and get drunk and think about ffffing that it is the new ‘nigger’ and ‘slant-eye’– the that which cannot be not challenged if you have a shred of decency or gumption.

    It is the schism between Jesus and Christianity that is a rub. Jesus had a few good fortune cookies. One could say, “Yo Jesus (before he was Christed), Love Your Enemy and Turn the Other Tower are rad(ical) & we ought grok them.” Where did it go wrong?

  Paul, the apostle, and his grotesque deal for power. Jesus was (or should have been) all about the meek inheriting the Earth. Not meek as some sort of wimps, but just not greedy and downtrodding. The point is that we are all of inherent equal worth and if you downtrod, you have erred. 

 

   I could countenance the supposed solaces of Religions (about which we can fisticuff) but the crucial zero-sum error of Christianity vs Jesusishness is this Sorry-Nope!!-we must-cry-out exclusivity ordure. I really don’t care so much what ‘spiritual’ clothes people want to sport if it makes them feel nifty as long as I do not have to wear them solemn rags or be burned at the stake or cast into lakes of burning fire or suffer “an eternity of conscious torment.”    “Scamliar, I would rather give my child heroin than Christianity” said with slightest ‘darn’ shrug is a beginning.

 

   Think oh ye gods imagine and grok the luck that you are NOT a Believer. The deeper the horror the horror is the disgusting ‘spiritual’ obedience, the dogism. Even if you kick a dog, it still servilely wags its tail and hopes ingratiatingly placatingly to please. (Fun enough in naughty fantasies, but utter-rotten in one’s raw etheREAL substance which people often miscall ‘spiritual.’ Institutionalized religion is giving over all that is fresh and startling and eccentric and giddy about your experience to some pompous flatulent twits who claim to have the Keys. Doing that to people for power or ermine-trimmed robes terminally sucks and I will not ever have any truck with it.

 

   We need a series of Deflators depending on the nature of the deflatee. If they are the Insinuating Bludgeoners like Scamliar, they deserve the Better Heroin Than Christianity Line, but monotheism, piety, and exclusivity are too boring and terrible to let slide, period.

 

more apace,

 

///

mon amigolobo,

   Z Project, the tidbits — I'm not standing by any of the notes on this Project yet, just hunting & gathering to get the holomosaic glittering angles to eventually end up with 3 fortune cookies for various audiences — the bunker buster bomb/bludgeon; the scalpel; the mild salsa for the old and why bother them too much but they still don't get to say 'nigger,' 'slant,' or 'fat’; //Amount of appropriate hate re Christians who do not speak out against war and the appalling sinful minimum wage?; How many & what degreee of vestiges or contamination(s) could a psychic surgeon allow to remain to fester because an iota of vestige will fester.//

 

Compulsive Religioholics, RA = Religioholics Anonymous;

 

I really need to address the “solace” angle and the slippery slope of that by telling you about Barbara Stockton and The Virgin Mary and about La 'Mama' in Peace Corps training & being glad that she had Jesus, but all these years and lard later concluding that the substance of religious hallucination is simply too damn dangerous, that it is not just a private matter of bizarring one's brain (about which who cares) but it inexorably leads to, supports hideous herd behavior of a level of vicious irrationality such that it is a danger to the general well-being where one has the right not to be trampled by the restrictions or the impositions or the inquisitions of the afflicted.

 

That children are forcibly injected with this religoin (ree-lij-oh-in)(cf heroin)before they are of an age of consent seems ineluctably wicked — like making the kid start smoking Camel straights with its Gerber Strained Pears.

 

   The contact-low from the grim of piety — so sunless, so funless, so absent silly — is a societal vortex gruellingly hard to avoid — One is condemned, pitied, shunned — TPTB (The Powers That Be) want control — what is more dangerous to Their Version of Things than the happyish freeish soul? 

 

   I'm not keen on existential angst as a supposedly morally superior antidote to the bleats of the Sheep. I'm anti-angst, anti-seriousness, whoever is peddling it. Obsidian humor is the only thing I've trusted, but that's a tightrope and yawning chasms under one's feet too far for most folk, a 'spiritual' vertigo. I wish you'd come up with another word than spiritual for this project, 'spiritual' having too bloody much baggage. Perhaps 'strangelove' could contend? A strangelove vertigo. Elan vital (A-lawn vee-tahl) is always swell.


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A quixote of quirk

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                                                 hammer ucla edu daumier

 

A quixote of quirk 

 

coined 4ya, panlobo:

 

a quixote of quirk: the unit of obsidian droll + whimsy required to sustain a comic life.

 

This fell lightningwise from The Blue when I read about the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Hellas, “the amount of information needed to convey a civilization … about a billion bits.”

 

“I can only wish a quixote of quirk to befall you, my erstwhile putative pal.” –Fleet 

  

//

p.133, Scientist in the City, James Trefil

“So the old saying is true. A picture is worth a thousand words – in fact, if a word is worth 36 bits, a picture is worth 222, 222 words. / “Once you understand that every message can be analyzed in terms of its information content, you can apply the idea to all sorts of unexpected things. Human DNA, fro example is the genetic “message” that parents pass on to their children. The genetic code is contained in a sequence of molecules along the double helix of the DNA molecule. Each position can display one of four molecules so each position represents two bits of information. there are 3 billion positions, so the total information content of human DNA is about 6 billion bits—three sets of the Encyclopedia Britannica.

   “People involved in the search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI) have thought about the number of bits it would take to convey the content of a civilization. Although we haven’t had much experience carrying out this sort of project between the stars, we have had a good deal of experience communication through time. You could argue, for example, that what we know of ancient Greek civilization is contained in the information in a few hundred books and pictures. SETI people define a unit called the Hellas—the amount of information needed to convey a civilization—to be about a billion bits.” 

//

7-8-06 11:36:42 pm

http://www.daviddarling.info/encyclopedia/H/Hellas.html

Physicist Philip Morrison estimated that what we know about the civilization of ancient Greece amounts to somewhat under 10 billion bits of information – a quantity he therefore suggested be called a “Hellas“. The communication of cultural information between stars, he proposed, can be conveniently discussed in terms of this unit. For example, the amount of information we would need to convey to an extraterrestrial race in order to give a comprehensive picture of our own culture would be on the order of 100 Hellades.

 ….
http://history.nasa.gov/SP-419/s3.1.htm
Although no one can deny the excitement that would accompany a physical visit to another inhabited world, most of the real benefit from such a visit would result from communication alone. Morrison has estimated that all we know about ancient Greece is less than 1010 bits of information; a quantity he suggests be named the “Hellas.” Our problem therefore is to send to, and to receive from, other cultures not tons of metal but something on the order of 100 Hellades of information. This is a vastly less expensive undertaking.

 

Note: Hellas is also the Greek name for Greece.

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The End of Monstrous Means

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justice  justice

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                           scotconsumer

 

 

The End of Monstrous Means

   I was watching dear CSpan this morning and Ron Suskind of One Percent Doctrine spoke at also dear Politics and Prose Bookstore in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Washington DC. He spoke of the notion fiatted by Darth Dick Cheney, paraphrased, ''if there was even a 1 percent chance of terrorists getting a weapon of mass destruction — and there has been a small probability of such an occurrence for some time — the United States must now act as if it were a certainty'' ‘making suspicion, not evidence, the new threshold for action.’

   This was a horrible but important talk which was chilling9 (cf  Vonnegut’s icenine in which a drop of the stuff turns everything to ice). However the piece that I want to remark upon is the notion Suskind brought up near the end of his talk. He mentioned that George Kennan of the Marshall Plan and of Cold War ‘containment,’ wrote that if we wanted to “preserve a moral departure point,” we could not allow the means, however noble the ends, of ‘more Dresdens.’

   I’ve been haunted not only by Dresden, a firebombing in which some 40,000 civilians were incinerated, but by the hideous firebombings and firestorms of the great wooden cities of Japan before Hiroshima (150,000 civilians dead) and Nagasaki (80,000 civilians dead).

“On March 10 1945, the US abandoned the last rules of warfare against civilians when 334 B-29's dropped close to half a million incendiary bombs on sleeping Tokyo.  
  “The aim was to cause maximum carnage in an overcrowded city of flimsy wooden buildings; an estimated 100,000 people were 'scorched, boiled and baked to death,' in the words of the attack's architect, General Curtis LeMay. It was then the single largest mass killing of World War II, dwarfing even the destruction of the German city of Dresden on Feb. 13, 1945.  . . . Even the city's rivers were no escape from the firestorm: the jellied petroleum that filled the bombs, a prototype of the napalm that laid waste to much of Vietnam two decades later, stuck to everything and turned water into fire. … ‘Canals boiled, metal melted, and buildings and human beings burst spontaneously into flames,’ wrote John Dower in War Without Mercy. People who dived into rivers and canals for relief were boiled to death in the intense heat. . . . The bombing incinerated over 15 kilometers of central Tokyo, left over a million homeless and opened the curtain on an orgy of destruction in the final months of the Pacific War that included dozens of similar raids on Japanese cities and culminated in the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August. When the droning of bombers finally stopped on August 15, 1945, nearly 70 cities had been reduced to rubble and well over half a million people, mostly civilians, were dead. LeMay reportedly said: “If we had lost the war, we would have been tried as war criminals.”  [David McNeill, Japan Focus.] 66 other Japanese wooden cities the size of Houston and Baltimore and Chattanooga and Chicago were firestormed.

     Anyhow, the idea that will make us human as last is the grokking that you can not separate ends and means. Mr. Suskind mention a phrase from the Hebrew Bible: “Justice. Justice. This you must pursue.” One justice for the ends. One justice for the means. Suskind continued, “If you forget about the conflict of ends and means, you’ve missed it.”

  In their no doubt zealous desire to “protect the American people,” our leaders have spent the precious reputation of a country which tries to be better. (Now this is an illusion. I was certainly never taught in school here in USA about the M69 napalm firestorms in 67 of Japan’s wood, straw and paper cities.) How ever faux, the world saw us as somehow trying to be just. Now our Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib and our general hysteria and grotesque hubris have made us distrusted and disgusting. It’s all about means and ends. Your ends can not be nobler than your means were. Amnesia and/or rationalization can blur the memory, but we must fight for means that, if not, forlornly, serene, are at least not vile.

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Balls Bazook & the War Thogs .. Odious Attacks of the WereRats

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<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office” /> Balls Bazook & the War Thogs parts 1-3

 amfap .. the war for fun

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Balls Bazook & the War Thogs .. the Attack of the Odious WereRats, part 1

  Oh the joys of radical genetic engineering. In Place2, the first off-Earth level of shapeshifting density, Balls Bazook was debriefing re his warforplans on Earth.

   Balls was having a balls massage in the new ballsicure machine that had been designed to bring feeling back to the nethers for space jockeys whose balls had been floating in zero-G for so long they had lost sensation. Leeringly, Balls told Fla Mingo, his co-co (pretty much they co’d most things – co-conspiracy, co-racy, co-piracy, co-gent –> co-co) that he’d prefer her not-so-tender aid in his balls restitution. They both chuckled. Ballsbite, the space-floating equiv of frostbite in mountain climbing, really in fact needed the Sonic Ballsisizer, a sophisticated Balls Sucker, to revive sensation in a way that even raw or unvarnished simple or complex sex could not accomplish. It was the deep melodic purring hums through the smooth pearlescent magnetic lotion that relocated the sensitive scrotal molecules back into time1.

   BrideOf Satin was leading the long (not-brief) debrief from the two majestic, triumphant, hitherto completely unsung heroes of subversive warfor, the ultimate terrorism: the war for fun.

 

 The Firstest Amendment: Self-evidently it is trooth that we each & all have the sentient right to as much fun as possible (amfap) consistent with roughly equal sharing of whatever latrine-cleaning tasks have to be accomplished in any given Realm. Awarthogs.¹

 

    The Fight for Fun (FiFF, among the hipnoscenti) was led by the tuffest, cutest, rootiest tootiest war thog they ever hatched: Balls Bazook. Fecund fun, that is the cri de coeur. Hip hip funsaway. Balls was supremely laffable – able to laff. You had to love Balls – he was truly hung. It was hard to know which was bigger, his balls or his heart. Balls Bazook, chieftain of war thogs. 

   Balls said, “The Earth Movie is running over-budget. We’re fouling the locations. Too many droves of extras are actually dying. Karmic insurance will no longer cover this production.”

……

   ¹On Old JeeGoo (Earth) while it was still in the poisoned grip of methreligiosity, one of the extranutter sects (Christinsanity as we recall) used 'Amen' or 'amen' as a signoff from its ever and without exception solemn religio-pronouncements or more often anti-nouncements. Especially Thou damn well shalt not have fun. ‘Men’ being a bygone race of semi-sentients, in our jollier times, we wryishly use drollish anachronisms like awarthogs to laud creatures and states more advanced and farfunnier than ‘men.’

 ……  

Balls Bazook & Trazom, part 2

   In his long &/or instantaneous sojourn in space confusing his balls, Balls Bazook dreamt of Trazom, the vaganzany² inclusive kaleidoscopic facetta of Fla Mingo, his consort, his honey whore, his socrates, et otro. He had been stirred and shaken by this encounter. It required the gossamer peripheral vision of the peripheral vision, a subsiding, indeed a surrender, a quintquantum relaxation of effort. He was shocked in his very balls at the experience. Upwelled in him an effervescent fountain throughout & within his cells of a slo-mo shock, like passing through some non-located electroplasmic cloud. The categories of benign & hostile; welcome & distasted, say, were so re-calibrated, so obsidianally fraught with chiaroscuros of humors that the sine waves of frisson were melodies of micro and macro of delightterror he had never raunchily nor ethereally begun to hear before. It was all a matter of fluid foldings, origami but without so many sharp edges. (Cf folding melted chocolate into whipped cream); the inherent became exherent in a coherent ecstasy, generous, ebullient, damned dangerous, parrot-colored glee and pastels of sweetness so diaphanous that he simply laughed like a silvery fish suddenly in a waterfall cascading in all that abun-dance of splash toward a deep pool.

   It was between two eyeblinks that this occurred, no syllable of the beatific, horrific extravagant vocabulary of etre (to be) was slurred – it was quick, sleek, slick as an otter’s dive. As unhurried & unworried as a sleeping cat, a reverential hallowed potential; a raw pagan plethora; any excuse, bold or sly, for concupiscent joy.

     The dynamic was, in an aspect, like a great bolt of cloth in which all the clothes, garments, and costumes inherent became exherent, and the lives lived in them, the dramas played in them became apparent.

     The affinities line up across the multitude of membranes. Flagrantly flamboyant, boisterously buoyant, spider-dainty, cloud-billowy. Trazom was 100% confident, 100% vulnerable. Balls Bazook was not glib for a few days. Tho radically cheerful.

…

Balls Bazook, Sir Tur Moil, & amfap (as much fun as possible) part 3

   One of the people Balls Bazook recruited for the amfap council was Sir Tur Moil, an asteroid voodooroo. All the asteroid roos were an odd lot when not raving mad. But they appreciated a good joke. Well, it wasn’t formal jokes with  punch lines so much as the underloved irony of the situation that lay there or lurked there.

    There was no infrastructure on most starballs as the asteroids rocks were called in the bangerslang of border space, the peculiar physics and psychics of where k1³ solid matter intervolved with the variable densities and variable chronosities of the suenos4.

    The renegades who dwelt in the asteroid belt tended to be folk who never cleaved to doctrine or might-maintained authority from life to life. Their psychic quarks were quirks.

    As Much Fun As Possible, amfap, amfap, didn’t eschew the standard cheetos & doritos of packaged hydrogenated fun, but specialized in stilton fun, sharp cheddar up the cheese ladder of compelling and demanding taste. Not for the velveeta set. The beer of fun was fine, but the brandy of fun, truffly fun was obsidian irony – which unlike God’s supposed love – remained when things got unbearably bleak.

    Reality is fractal and mosaic – holofractal & holomosaic. Dervish kaleidomosaic pieces flutter like flocks of all different birds in a substrate of randomly moody air. We tell the story with grammar, in a captured, orderly zoo of expression, but it doesn’t happen that way in universe-speak. It happens more jumble and jungle, but most people shriek and freak if you try to display truth to them. They want sentences and paragraphs. Drat.

   Sir Tur, who had carelessly allowed the candle of his otl to be blown out, was a trueblue cognoscente of irony seeing as he had fallen himself into the unspeakably bleak. An otl, a one-true-love, extinguished is a gcubed loss – grim, ghastly, grotesque, and where is up from there? “Sometimes,” she had said, “I have no skin and you must stand between me and the wind.” It wasn’t until she was gone that he realized so starkly so darkly how much light that single candle flame had wrought in sweetness and light, how much it had illuminated in the caverns and dungeons of his mind, what a grace and solace it had been.

   Her specialties had been silliness and patience. She accepted, without dulling, his once-caged rages, however seething, capricious, or ferocious. He didn’t need to deceive her, though he did just to cause random pain. She held it and dispelled it. Nothing tarnished her. God knows he’d tried.

…

    Fla Mingo slathered Balls’ balls with a cooling minty lotion. He didn’t know the chipotle lotion was next and he rested majestically like a lion. It was a satanically deep pleasure to have his balls lotioned. Fla Mingo wore a soft chartreuse silk shirt and short short pants of a shiny supple leather a dark bright rose color. They talked about the daunting flak these weevils on Earth threw into the psychic atmosphere. A cruel confetti of harsh metal shards – gay marriage, abortion, terrorists. There is no such thing as a free market. There’s the commonly constructed infrastructure. And labor – valued or devalued. Every person’s life time is exactly as valuable to them as yours is to you. Oh Justice, where art thou?  Oh Justice, where art thou?   

 

² derivation OVV (Old Vuravura/Earth): extra-vaganza-ly zany;

³ k1 = the basic old JeeGoo (Earth) solid, steady, persistent density and gravity is the signature of the k1 masterpiece Earth-dream;

4 sueño = the old Spanish word for ‘dreams’ – used in modern times as dreamesque; variable densities;

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6 Night . Akbal . Hearth . West . tzol 121  06.19.06 mon

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the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

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nazi-lite: frog-in-cold-water totalitarianism

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nazi-lite: frog-in-cold-water totalitarianism

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The yawning MSM silence about RFK Jr's comprehensive June 15 Stolen Votes article in RollingStone made me yet more head-banging-against-so-many-walls aware that we are in the frog-in-cold-water rise of totalitarianism in USofA.

This was a Paul Revere article — alarums should have been raised all over the country in editorials. Yet the gigantic HoHum prevailed in such a multitude that this anti-evidence of keeping us down on the farm cowed and sheeped makes me weep as I watch freedom slosh not even noisily down the drain. Oh woe is we.

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

There's openvotingconsortium, a high level computer gigageek and concerned citizens group which is fighting for open source code for computer voting that keeps me from thinking All Is Lost.  

 

ps. For those unfamiliar with the Poor Frog in Cold Water: if you throw a frog into boiling water, it will leap out in the searing horror of the offense to its living system. However, if you put a frog into cold water and slowly and steadily raise the heat, the Poor Frog will end up cooked with out much wiggling.


So here we are in nazi-lite, a  totalitarianism of executive aggrandizement and liberties being disappeared or diluted in the almighty (ahem) name of 'security.' Caveat citizen. 

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MSM = main stream media

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10 Jaguar . Ix . Ocelot . Panther . North . tzolkin 112  06.10.06 sat

955 days/2y7m10d left  

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the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

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We Coulda Had Gore

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I wrote this note in Comment on a post by Nora Ephron on Huff Post.

We Coulda Had Gore .. Eighteen-letter words

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I used to use a variety of expletives along the way in my life, most of which, except for Balderdash! are recognizable to the profane-sailor crowd. But since 2000, I often wake up in the middle of the Bush-et-Ilk nightmare-ridden night hearing myself cursing at full the-horror the-horror yell, scaring the cats and waking the neighbors, that  eighteen letter word, “FloridaNaderVoters!!” as if the sky were falling.

 

Well, the sky is fallen, & I can't forgive the self-indulgent ignorance of the FNVs, the Florida Nader Voters — HOW could you be SO STUPID, all 90,000 of you?? If only a thousand of you had woken up that day with a supple brain. “'All the same' are they? Really? Do you still think that?”

 

And after the 'election' in 2004? I now rent a rubber room for weekends so when I'm not blindly feeding the best years of my life into the slavering corporate maw during the long crepuscular cheneylurks week, I can bang my head against the wall with less injury because I ain't got healthcare to cover major concussion.

 

9/11 sucked. It killed 3000 people. It was not a national threat requiring the [re-]election of George Bush. 465,000 people a year die in our USofA of tobacco causes — let's bust the Philip Morris bunker, get Morris' 18.13 million-dollar-annual-compensation CEO Lou bin Camilleri dead or alive, put a Green Zone in Winston-Salem, and occupy North Carolina if we really want to “protect the American people.”

 

We are not serious or smart people, we USofAians. We flaunt ignorance as if it were evidence of more-balls, the sine qua none. We vote with our adolescent hearts rather than our adult heads. We want the kind of romance that Hallmark sells. 

 

If our own state is a lock this Fall, we can write letters to out-of-state  on-the-cusp voters in crucial districts through mmob (Mainstreet Moms) and phone out of state with mmob or moveon. (I just say that 'My vote in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />California doesn't mean anything — you're voting for me too.')

 

The eloquent elegant wistful wail is not enough. I beg us to DO something besides bitterly bemoan — though bitterly bemoaning cannot be overdone, lest we forget 'the inconvenient consequences.'

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

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11 Wind . Ik . Whirlwind . North . tzol 100  05.29.06 mon

967 days/2y7m22d left  

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the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

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The Power of Lucid, Active Dreaming

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The Power of Lucid, Active Dreaming

image

 

05.18.06

Dear Dreamers.

   An update on the Janie/Johnny DreamSeed Project. (In the first Fort Mason Gate piece of March 21, I outlined the idea of upping the active-ante of openly promoting lucid/active dreaming while carrying my Dream Peace sign and otherwise being out & about.) Here’s what I’ve gleaned so far. [Bringing up dreams to strangers; Prejudice against dreams; Dreams for the disabled; Ted Kennedy & training dream engineers; Your night at school; new handout card.]

 

   First, in just this short time, bringing up dreaming has become a much more comfortable part of my ‘casual’ patter with strangers. “I’m doing a lot more to remember my dreams these days. How about you? My favorite remembering trick is to give the dream a quick title, nothing fancy, not literature, just a quick descriptive phrase like ‘Pile of Dirty Socks.’” HaHa. A laugh always helps.

   If I get a chance, I send them to mossdreams & say, “Try any of the books.” I hand them the Power of Dreaming card as often as I can.

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

   There are other tidbits to share with you. There keeps coming up an undercurrent of unconscious prejudice against ‘dreams’ as having a connotation of ‘pie in the sky.’ I’m now prepared for this & go straight for dreams, in addition to being amazing fun, as being a powerful resource. I changed the title of my handout card to say ‘The Power of Lucid, Active Dreaming.’ I say something like (as if conspiratorially sharing), “Of course Albert Einstein got the theory of relativity in active visioning and Mozart says he found his symphonies ‘whole in lively dreams.’ And when I can use a few sentences about Harriet Tubman, “Did you know that Harriet Tubman guided all her folks on the Underground Railroad away from the overseers and dogs through her ability to lucid dream? I was never taught that in school. Were you?”

 

    I was talking to a client who is a nurse about the idea of getting nurses in hospitals & nursing homes to introduce dreaming/visioning to their transitioning patients. She said she didn’t see many people who were about to die anymore. Then a flash came to me about how dear & excellent it would be if people who were physically disabled (cerebral palsy; war-maimed; etc etc) could be taught to dream – what a vacation, a relief, and a power of study and fun and exploration it could be. How ameliorating. I remember years ago paralyzed Chris Reeve saying that he still rode and sailed in his dreams.

    Obviously one would need to be alert to keeping both parts of their lives in balance.

    Having been financially poor and in mind/heart with so great a good fortune of many mansions, an absurd abundance of poetic riches, I realize how dream travel has kept me from any envy or enervating longing. I have never felt ‘stuck’ as I see so many people. The same thing could happen for people in wheelchairs.

    After the nurse’s kid graduates from high school in a month, she and I are going to meet to talk more about including nurses in dreamseeding.

 

   I saw Ted Kennedy on Larry King talking about <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />China graduating 750,000 engineers and India 350,000 engineers, and America only 75,000 engineers. He spoke of his concern about our nation’s future. I got a flash that what we also need is to start training & graduating tens of thousands of dream engineers every year in the USA. That as we have ambassadors to Switzerland & England, we need ambassadors to the DreamLands.

    One of my most popular lines so far is “With my fabulous & lucky education, no one ever even once asked me, ‘How was your night at school.’ They look curious. “I bet you ask your kid every day, ‘How was your day at school.’ One of the most important things for your kid’s future would be to add dream resources to their life. Every morning ask, ‘How was your night at school.’”

 

    I’ve distilled my quik handout card even more for the Lightning DreamWork with the mnemonic device for remembering the steps & taking folks right to the webpage with that article. Note that I also made a quik list of the steps themselves.

 

 

The Power of Lucid, Active Dreaming

try Dreaming True by Robert Moss

http://www.mossdreams.com/lightning.htm

Lightning DreamWork mnemonic:

Two Ducks Suddenly Quack 3 Times; Four Red

Cavorting Kangaroos Ingest A Banana Split

title; dream story; 3 questions: feelings? reality

check? what want to know? if my dream; action;

bumper sticker;   email: pogblog@yahoo.com

my blog=http://pogblog.blogharbor.com

Click on Dreams in Category column on Right

 

 

Anyhow, cheers. I’d love any tips or feedback on how it’s going with you in the spreading the word about lucid/active dreaming.

 

Carpe dreams,

 

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

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13 Monkey . Chuen . Raccoon . West . tzol 89  05.18.06 thur

978 days/2y8m02d left  

ffwofw787§26d2h33m11s33.84g3.25g; 

 

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the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

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Karl Rove: a cur sans coeur

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Karl Rove: a cur sans coeur

image

 
If bless-ed Jason is right, we'll get a mental reprieve — if Senor Sadist(“I don't just want to defeat you, I want to ruin you, pluck all the feathers from your better angels' wings, one by naked & raw one”) gets the frog march.
 
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the frogmarching of Karl Rove ..
 
Oh Pleas upon pleas, Fat E, let us have this one. Karlie's pudgie rump in jail is a Fine Idea. Death no, humiliation yes.
 
It took brain tumors to bring Lee Atwater, Karlie's guru of grueling, to beg for mercy at the end, & LeeBoy was a midget to Karlie's monster. Atwater was a rotter, but not a oialt (once in a lifetime) sadist. May be in the jail, Karlie could wish for fairer play. Atwater blubberingly begged for forgiveness from his victims at the end (Don't we all?), but it didn't save him (Does it ever?).
  
Still, listening to some blubber from Karlie would salve if not solve the reign of pain. A cur sans coeur.  
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Jason Leopold Friday May 12
Jason on Saturday  May 13
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frog march image, google images, apfn.org
oily rove image, google images, nrk.no,img,500183.jpeg 

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'sans' means 'without' in French;

'coeur' means 'heart' in French & is pronounced 'cur' —

cur sans coeur was a phrase meant to be for Mr. Rove — i am proud to have coined it. 

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

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copyright pogblog 2006 all rights reserved

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8 Death . Cimi . Twins . North . tzol 84  05.13.05 sat

983 days/2y8m07d left .. full moon

ffwofw174§26d2h33m11s33.84g3.25g;  

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the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

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Prez Dunce felled by Sir Colbert

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Prez Dunce felled by Sir Colbert

image

   Across the kingdom, the maidens cry, “ Sir surColbert is rare, is fair. We care!”

   Prezident Dunce squats leeringly over the Land loosing bolts of Dunce Flatulence like bulletins from the bowels, messages from the Dunce Gut, smoke signals from .. well, you know. They blundered, then they plundered, and the Land lay bereft, baffled, its noble name besmirched, flagrantly befouled.

   Unarmored but not unarmed, our champion, Sir Stephen surColbert, in the face of the most damnable danger, stood his ground, stood our ground. It was sursurreal.

   Calling upon the shade of Sir GoodLuck Murrow, Sir surColbert des Ouefs with mad aplomb sent forth his shafts to smote Prez Dunce who was so deep in fell falsehoods that he looked utterly besmattered, completely encrusted with the droppings of the great leathery-winged DownRightLiesOndor Bird.

   As tiny a target as was the small hard little heart and narrow mind of Prez Dunce, these precious shafts tipped with curare-grade Irony sped to fiercely pierce the bloated hubris and rot of contumely (the telltale thin-lipped sneer) to snick him where he lived, to draw his thin, mucus-colored blood.

   Brave brave Sir surColbert lanced the disgusting National Boil, an operation that took <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />23:48. 23 seconds & 48 seconds. Blessings be showered upon you like a golden rain, citizen Colbert. 

  

   BC indeed, Before Colbert. After 4/29, after then we were never the same again. It wasn’t a sword what freed us, it was The Word.

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

'He stands on things, air craft carriers, rubble, recently-flooded city squares; Stand on banks of computers & send men into battle;14 black bulletproof SUVs; mesquite-powered car; Monday Wednesday, Tuesday; glass 2/3 empty; 68% approve of the job you’re not doing; Doubting Thomas; Eat salad with a spoon; Don’t let generals retire; shoot me in the face; Intrepid reporter book =  fiction. He stands on things, America’s crises resolved by the most powerfully staged photo ops in the world.’ Words won. ’Twas words what won. Not gun powder, but wit powder.   Fractal entendre. Obsidian humor.

 

   Against Irony, the Secret Service had no plan nor guard. Sir surColbert was the sleekest stealthiest of all possible moles – an invited dinner guest for all national tv to see. At the head table eating what? chicken breast (oh immortal fowl)? raspberry sorbet? haute chic no doubt. Who knew that in moments, the comic magnetic field, the Irony core of Earth, would flip poles?

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

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copyright pogblog 2006 all rights reserved

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7 Serpent . Chicchan . East . tzolkin 83  05.12.06 fri

984 days/2y8m08d left

ffwofw394§26d2h33m11s33.84g3.25g; 

 

..

the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

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Stephen Colbert .. Rename Mt. Everest, Mt. Colbert .. update 05.07.06

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Stephen Colbert ..

Rename Mt. Everest, Mt. Colbert

 

Since the glittering date 4/29, The Press Dinner, I include all the angles of enchantment I’ve been cleaving in order to commend the brilliance of that spectacular comic jewel, Stephen Colbert, oh frabjous joy. I left Comments on various blogs & so4th. Not because my words are deathless, but because Colbert’s verve & nerve are deathless, and I wanted to figure out Modes of Adulation & Tribute which you can watch kaleidoscope along the way.

.

Note: If the video you find doesn’t begin with the 14 black bulletproof SUVs quip, you’re not seeing the whole event. You must find this first chunk. URLs below. This event has been chinaed (censured) almost immediately.

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mon mobius,

  You’re still on the top of my list, cher Ub, but cheesh, barely.

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

[04.29.06 <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />10:13:12 pm .. I emailed Comedy Central thru their FAQ page: I've been acutely watching and doing politics since JFK was murdered on my 19th birthday. I haven't seen any political act any braver than Stephen Colbert on 04-29, a date I'll treasure with awe and frisson.

 

Stephen put his Huevos Grandissimos & Eagle Stephen Jr's future on The Line at The Press Dinner 15.5 feet from The Decider. I was actually happy for the first time in 5 years¹. Whatever else Colbert does, he's done this with ffffin glory. It'll go down in Comic History with the Dead Parrot sketch, but muy braver. And to give Helen Thomas all those chops — hip hip daggone hurray! I am proud to carpe comedy on the same planet.]

 

   Ah, he was fabulously flaying. A comic hero. 15.5 feet from the Decider and he brought it on in the name of serious doses of Vitamin I, Irony to the max. Oh bbbblissss. Prezzie wasna pleased.

   This following is from the quantum vantage, not from our safe stolid daytime angle of penetration (cf a stick in a glass of water), sweets. The surprise was 5:45:57 sunday am, truthinessest reigned. A long, lovely seductive episode w/ Stephen Colbert, not carnal, but frank – truthinesspitudesque. He gave me a note with his ethermail address, saying letters were hopeless re delivery; there were a number of people signatory to a Kyoto-like pact of comedy. We were on a train-like conveyance & quipped it up. I told him that WhatHisName (Huevos Granderissimos) was my heart’s delight. Colbert & I bantered & it was trez relaxing & refreshing. Keep brave, keep strong, oh clowns. [There were a number of very close-ups & our frankness was what was charming. Not much coy.]

  The Press Dinner as it deserves to be dubbed in a parallel of future fame with The Last Supper was a watershed in Comic, & Global history.

   Compare the tepidity of Jon Stewart’s Oscar gig. Stephen was All Balls. [All Ball was the name of  Koko, the signing ape’s first kitten, not a sequitur.]

   At least, my dear one, I have taste in my cosmic dalliances.

   //Palace of Dreaming, Taj Mahal of Dreaming. News is delivered in the Comic Dimension in holopackages.

   IPO – Initial Psychic Offering of RTR – Ridicule the Right. The Press Dinner was the (public) Comic Event of the Century.

 

///Back to k1, the daily round & round. I’ve been trying to find an url of the video of The Press Dinner for you but I can’t find anything that has the whole gig on it. Darn crooksandliars only has the 2nd half which Ought Not be seen without the yet more impaling first half. Luckily I do have it all on tape & want you to see it asap.

 

¹That was about political happiness. Everyone of our silly palavers has made me unaccountably happy, ratpig. I just wish your ear wasn’t so disgusting. Have you thought of doing a Van Gogh? I bet he just chopped off his more disgusting ear for the sake of art.

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5-6-06 12:07:42 pm

on huff post/Craig Crawford;

   Ahh, a ShootOut at the Not-OK Corral and Colbert wipes out all the villains.

   I've renamed Mt. Everest, Mt. Colbert. There is no honor I can imagine that would actually suffice to laud the brilliance and balls of Stephen Colbert with WMI (Weapons of Mass Irony) strapped to his chest on 4/29. a date I'm having tattooed on my forehead this afternoon.

   The Press Dinner (cf The Last Supper)was as courageous a public act of political courage as I have ever seen. Deft and daft, oh huevos-hero Stephen.  I tug my forelock five times a day.

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5-6-06 11:55:40 am on Seattle Post Intelligencer


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I've renamed Mt. Everest, Mt. Colbert. There is no honor huge, wide, shiny enough to laud El Colbert de los Huevos. Hallelujah.

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on The truthiness hurts, Michael Scherer

http://letters.salon.com/opinion/feature/2006/05/01/colbert/new/

 Carpe Comedy. JFK was murdered on my 19th birthday. It's taken a lot of Vitamin I (Vitamin Irony) to get me through the following decades with dogged optimism intact. I have felt my fingers slipping off the edge of the Cliff of Despair, however, these last five years.

 

Watching The Press Dinner on 4/29, I felt Ultimate Hope resurge — a cosmicomic pole shift as if the planet's very magnetic field had flipped. In insufficient tribute, I renamed the constellation Orion, Colbertion — and Mt. Everest, Mt. Colbert.

 

I was so unreasonably happy to see Colbert dare the mesquite fuelled car, standing on things (aircraft carriers, rubble, recently flooded city squares), and the stop-lossed, pundit-show-hardened generals on banks of computers sending young men into battle that I all but spontaneously combusted into fireworks of glee in my living room.

 

His mad comic courage ignited my heart again. I tug my forelock five times a day while somersaulting. 

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5-4-06 2:55:13 am on Thank You Mr. Colbert #42402-ish;

http://thankyoustephencolbert.org/

The only folks not in awe of Mr. Colbert's frabjous performance right in the BeastBelly are those severely deficient in Vitamin Irony. 'A mesquite powered car?' 'Not just standing for things, but on things — aircraft carriers, rubble, recently flooded city squares.'

 

The cosmicomic gods were hugging themselves with glee and pride that Someone Had the Huevos to Speak Up in this country which, forlornly, harrumphs about free speech more than practices it.

 

Carpe Comedy. I rename Mt. Everest, Mt. Colbert.  

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http://www.salon.com/politics/war_room/2006/05/03/dobbs/index.html

5-4-06 2:44:32 am/on Salon, Lou Dobbs, Stephen Colbert and the myth of the liberal media

There aren't enough honors to lavish upon zetta-intrepid heroissimo, Mr. Colbert. I have re-named the constellation Orion, Colbertion. Check out your globe to notice that Mt. Everest is now Mt. Colbert.

 

To drastically speak out in the BellyOfTheBeast is a fantastically brave act. If you didn't get how obsidianally funny, scathing, flaying he was, you need direly to up your doses of Vitamin I (Vitamin Irony).

 

I tug my forelock five times a day. 

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5-2-06 1:58:41 am/on sfgate, Morford,

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/sfgate/detail?blogid=3&entry_id=4791

 

In the IPO (Initial Psychic Offering) of RTR (Ridicule the Republicans), Stephen Colbert is the lifetime CEO. It doesn't matter what he has ever done before or what he goes on to do. This was the Gettysburg-Address-Equivalent of Eternal Fame and of Constellation-Worthy guts in the BeastBelly. And he gets oakleaf clusters on that Constellation. (Orion was overdue for re-branding anyhow: Colbertion [Coal-bear-eye-awn]).

 

I tug my forelock in comic fealty. I watched in the first complete joy I've felt in five dread-rising years. I felt that gruelest of emotions: hope.

 

It was so slicingly incisive that I'm not sure Mr. Bush got at first how deftly he was being flayed then filleted. Oh frabjous joy.

 

The coward press was too timid or tepid to rise up in roaring acclaim, but I will now tug my forelock five times a day facing East. The combination of art and guts, of ingenuity and staying in character in the face of a firing squad of scorn was so beautiful and brilliant that I am so happy to join the Legions of Colbert's Love Slaves. Before I saw this happen, I could not have imagined that it could. Like seeing the Northern Lights for the first time. And to give all those delicious chops to the hideously disrespected, doughty Helen Thomas was a cherry on the cake of fractal entendre.  

 

Oh Colbert, thou art rare. Carpe comedy in deed.  

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on jesse kornbluth on huff post

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jesse-kornbluth/all-hail-stephen-colbert-_b_20083.html

4.29 is a date emblazoned in my comic heart. When I saw the Greatest and Most Daring All Balls Comic Performance of my Lifetime. 15.5 feet from The Decider and the coward press too serf-esque to dare applaud with the loud screaming of raw joy they owed this courageous man. I hugged the television and thanked my Lucky Stars I had taped The Press Dinner so I can watch it over and over until the tape wears thin.

 

I've had BlackAdder & Basil Fawlty, but THIS mattered in history, right in the face of dictatorial power. It was a tour de force and a tour de farce. Stephen Colbert, I tug my forelock. Carpe comedy in deed.

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on Daou 4-30-06 9:12:28 pm

Late Sunday afternoon Pacific Time on 04.30.06, to my tremble & horror, I was watching the end of the Two Bushes bit at The Dinner waiting to re-see Stephen for the 3rd time. CSPAN, yes CSPAN discontinued airing The Dinner after the Bush stuff, just before Stephen would have come on. I went hot & cold with marrow trepidation. They got to CSPAN this quick?

 

I've been acutely watching and doing politics since JFK was murdered on my 19th birthday. I haven't seen any political act any braver than Stephen Colbert on 04-29, a date I'll treasure with awe and frisson.

 

Stephen put his Huevos Grandissimos & Eagle Stephen Jr's future on The Line at The Dinner 15.5 feet from The Decider. I was actually happy for the first time in 5 years. Whatever else Colbert does, he's done this with ffffin glory. It'll go down in Comic History with the Dead Parrot sketch, but muy braver. And to give Helen Thomas all those chops — hip hip daggone hurray! I am proud to carpe comedy on the same planet.

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5-7-06 2:47:42 am to a friend email;

Colbert's 'normal' stuff is fab, but this ShootOut at the Not-OK Corral was sursurreal weightlessness in orbit after practicing in terrestrial swimming pools. I can't imagine in history the Stars conspring to have The ffffin Dictator forced to listen to 23:48 minutes of his megalomaniacal ego being de-inflated, the sweet hiss of escaping air, oh my. One comic got one chance — clearly they'll never invite an Edgy again —  and he shot every curare-tipped arrow from all our quivers. This wasn't Colbert, this was surColbert. This wasn't a fine tv show, this was History. 

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Video Links 23:48 minutes

I don't know how long this will stay available but as of 2:06am, 05.05.06, the first 16m 38s start with the 14 black bullet proof SUVs!! thru the whole monologue in the simple Windows media that everyone can use. Then for the press secretary audition skit, the ABC camera isos just Prezzie, interesting in its own way if you know the video.

 
 
Someone else suggested that the line in Hamlet was giga-apt: “The play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.”
 
The Video of the actual press audition skit is at http://movies.crooksandliars.com/WH-Dinner-Colbert.wmv.
 
The skit begins about 7m06s into that segment. (Also Windows Media)
 
There may be a more elegant way to get all this in one go, but for immediately, this'll get the Huevos rolling. 

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image from google images, barefoot.provocatuese.com, show, stephen_colbert

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If you know an agent, editor, publisher person who would handle this kind of pogblogian 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 2006 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

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13 Flint . Edznab . Knife . North . tzol 76  05.05.06 fri

991 days/2y8m15d left as of  05.05.06 

ffwofw1774§26d2h33m11s33.84g3.25g;  

 

..

the education-obsessed world begins today with you ..

.. let’s spend the $820,000 per minute Military Budget on education instead

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