Quantum Optics & the Great AhaHa! .. a newer, funnier physics . .

Note: please check pogblog’s Glossary for coined (invented) or unfamiliar words, tho for this article, there is a quick glossary below.  If you read this material with your mouth, as if out loud, it will be clear as a bell.

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Quantum Optics & the Great AhaHa!

part 1 .. otter around in the utter .. a newer, funnier physics

 

     The Nobel Physics Prize people are sweet, but antique in their visions and versions. One of the recipients of the Nobel Prize for ultraviolet laser short-pulse-light study , Dr.Theodor Hänsch of Max Planck Institute of Quantum Optics in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Garching, Germany and a professor at the Ludwig Maximilians University in Munich, says, “Eventually, we may be able to enjoy 3-D holographic movies.”

    Eventually, like last night?

    Oh, oh, oh, these pesky physics prof lads are so behind zee times, golly. Our brains do the 3D holographic movies we call dreams every night, physics doods.

     Holographic, holoaudic, hologusto, holoolfact, holokino – holosentido — movies around in which we walk every night. Nobel Prize that, profs. Put on your dreaming caps and do the pioneering study on the semi-permeable filter that separates the actuality planes so niftily for us and which we call the brain, de hersenen, le cerveau, el cerebro. Those photonic physics punks called artists and shamans otter around in the utter (study the exotic physics of  iziz, all-of-it) with considerable skill. Now we all need to get our terms of engagement more intratranslatable.

     The first of the 9 Gandhi-King Steps to nonviolence & to collaboration is to Define the Conflict. Peeps are often fighting about totally different stuff. You think we’re fighting about money; I think we’re fighting about whether you care about me vividly enough. So we need a rapprochement between repeatable science and photonic science.

    To be blunt, mon amigoas, what we’re doing ain’t working so good for millions of fellow sentients on our Planet Home. Planet Home could be a garden if we turned militarism to educationism, from lead to gold indeed. But the meta-physics matters – the what we allow to be really real – to count  

   The scientists have got to belly up to the UniekBar, the Unrepeatable Bar, the thrilling and chilling realization that because Eternity is so long or vast, only the unique can in fact actually exist, tho there are bands of areas where the similarities work as repeatable for all macro-practical purposes. Scientists already know this but it’s awkward doctrinally when “repeat the experiment’ is like ‘Jesus is the only way to Heaven,’ not true but theo-bolstering to the exclusivity of one’s views.

     So there needs to be more truth in advertising from the scientists, and some more occasional semi-sobriety from the mystery-surprise-drunk photonikists who need to be better journalists of the otter-in-the-utter experiences and quit being boors and borrachos to the dear scientists who just rightly wanted to cool down the chaos from their own fundamentalist-religions-ridden era, cerca 16th c.

    Ole Plato had the quintessentially useful construct: the charioteer. You are the charioteer and your chariot is drawn by the white horse of reason and the black horse of passion – and if you do not get them pulling together, you just go around in a circle, one way or the other. Both horses being dappled is the eventual burbanked hybrid solution. Integrate lucid waking & lucid dreaming, the two sides of the brain, all the false dichotomies that keep us blindered if not blinded to the holospheric and presently vertiginous truth. There’s no way out of the reality sea, you might as well swim. Sulking only curdles the blood.

    Some general advice – the scientists need to burn their neckties and only do science in hawaiian shirts and Bermudas, and the photonikists need to quit always wandering around in their not recently washed boxer shorts idly itching their gonads – or the female fashion equivalents. There is peace possible in this Valley of Earthly Delights if we each have to learn a good deal about the language of reality with which we’re uncomfortable and less fluent. Multi-lingual, lasses & lads, that’s our figging salvation – more physixes, more ecumenical.

     And we have to with our eyeballs bleeding with misgivings and raw hope make the photonic leap to grokking that our real security is not in militarism but in educationism. We need to teach people to build and invent, not kill. It’s the future, il futuro, de toekomst, zukunft, le jour suivant.

 

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

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

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Quick glossary.. holosentido – the inhabited senses, the senses we can dwell in & not just view from outside like tv. Our earth experience is holoV, a holograph in which we dwell, except that it includes all the senses, not just seeing. Auditory/hearing; gustatory/tasting; olfactory/smelling; kinesthetic/feeling; Therefore holosentido includes holographic, holoaudic, hologusto, holoolfact, holokino. /// link to the 9 Gandhi-King Principles of Pro-Peace Collaboration; /// grok = deeply understand, drink in understanding; /// photonic physics &c = the post-quantum physics where the physixes of  all our experiences are integrated. /// borrachos = drunkards; /// Uniek = unique in Dutch; I like the polyglot or many-tongues feel – it makes me less parochial or narrowly local; /// peeps is affectionate slang for people; /// amigoas like felinoas sapiens is trying to balance up the gender wrongs embedded in the language; It’s not ideal, but it’s a start; /// Iz Iz, iziz,  cf Is Is .. the only completely true thing you can say; /// the future, il futuro, de toekomst, zukunft, le jour suivant – all of them mean future, except ‘le jour suivant’ in French literally means ‘the day which follows.’ /// dichotomies are divisions into two; /// burbanked is a tip of the sombrero to Luther Burbank who was the wizard of hybrids and who talked some roses out of their thorns, for instance.

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Check pogblog’s Glossary for brave & nefarious words.

copyright pogblog 2005 all rights reserved

Please send pogblog’s link to your friends:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

10 Deer . Manik . West . tzol 127  10.06.05 thu  

ffwofw 655§8941/24d17h28m25s31.98gb/1093

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the pro-peace world begins today with you

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Holoscope .. the horoscope evolved

New today ..(Finally, friends — you've been asking & asking, so here it is.)

 

 Holoscope .. get tutored in the future. An holoscope is the horoscope evolved. A master reader in lucidity & life mastery writes very detailed insights particularly for you.  

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Some peoples minds-&-hearts are already quite fractal and some other folks want to keep LinearLand at least in sight, not over the horizon. I’m happy to accommodate either degree of adventure.

 

Short, medium, and long personal writings are available. Some phone consultations are available. Email pogblog@yahoo.com for fuller information and fees.

 

Some people also like the full-bore gallop of giga-vocabulary and some other people like to start with a more strolling translation of the more rambunctious words.  I do both. To me the point is to aid you in discovering the art you hide from yourself or which your daggone Inner Perfectionist keeps you from enjoying and daring as much as you gleefully might.

 

Email pogblog@yahoo.com for fuller information & phone number.

 

Jung said we should never discount astrology because it is the collected, accumulated wisdom of the ancients. And certainly in its blueprints of personality patterns, it is eerie and revealing. We assume that other folks will react and be struck as we are. Astrology shines some useful and significant lights on these varieties of response which are not like us. I treasure and am fascinated by these insights, by these revelations of the scripts off which we riff.

 

But we are coming into a more fractal, a more holospheric what would seem from now a controlled madness of experience where we become more conscious of our multi-dimensional selves. I haven't put out all the fables I've written on this yet, but if we look at ourselves from the future, we will make the transition to a lot more synapses firing in story and symphony ways with more relish and elegance and economy (in the sense of less flailing).

 

Your holoscope is a map for you of this transitional, alchemic time. 

 

I offer holoscopes to you in much the way that you might get a horoscope. Except that the holoscope is much more personal than Scorpio with Leo Rising  and is written by a master writer. You may also give an holoscope as a gift.

 

Email pogblog@yahoo.com for fuller information & phone number.

 

See below the info I can use to incorporate for the Long- Version Holoscope after you sign up for one.

 

The questions which ask for the following tidbits are deliberately only casually personal – like the kind of stuff you’d share at a coffee shop. But they really help me make a response to you that resonates with your own inner metaphor & story structures. They are familiar decoration – to make your holoscope story homey in a few unexpected particulars. Don’t think.  Play instead. This is not a test. Playful is better. Please don’t pretty up your answers to look more sophisticated or some such imaginary category. The point here is the quick truth.

 

 

Please note: Your identity is absolutely confidential with me. I am happy for you to be 100% anonymous if you wish. If in doing a holoscope reading for you, I tap a vein of ore which is generally useful, I definitely may explore that vein on pogblog, but not in any way that identifies you – you are like a confidential source in terms of your identity.

 

Whne you sign up for a Longer-Version Holoscope story, I'll ask you to give the quick answers to these. 

  


Your Holoscope Tidbits Profile
 
If you prefer to copy this & dump it into Word to put in the responses, just paste it back into the text of an email because I don’t open attachments.
 
Just a word or several will do for each category unless otherwise indicated. Generally put things in order of preference, but don’t fuss about the order. Be jolly. (I mean several [2-5] for all of these. &c = et cetera.) Roar through this without fussing yourself. Don’t fuss about formatting either. Just stick your answers in after the category & Put a period at the of a group. Sample: Favorite writing implement(s)/pencil; quill. Or in a List, underline the one you choose: Favorite snack is popcorn, pickles, stilton cheese with ginger & mango; in & out burger; tapioca pudding.
 
Do as much or as little as you like. It takes about 40 minutes. The more you do, the more immediate to you personally your holoscope will be & that’s the key difference between an holoscope & an horoscope – it’s a story for you yourself, not for every Scorpio with Leo rising.
 
Note: I will not use all or even most of the tidbits. But it’s handy to have them depending on where your reading goes.   
 
Several favorite musicians from past & present/. Several favorite singers/. Favorite types of music/. Favorite foods, not desserts/. Favorite desserts/. Favorite landscape in order (ocean; mountains; desert; prairie &c/). Favorite dramatic movies/. Favorite comedies/. If you do theater, several favorite plays or playwrights/. Favorite musical/. Guilty pleasure movies (eg surfing movies &c). The best movie of all time/. Favorite artists/. Favorite scientist/. Favorite science (even if you’re lousy at it)/.
    Do you tend to harken to the past or to the present or to the future/. Greatest two invention of the 20th century/. What’s your favorite gadget/.  2-5 favorite sayings/. Several favorite phrases (e.g. unquenchable enthusiasm; skunks stink)/.
    Do you tend to think of yourself as more scientific, artistic, practical, dreamy/. Favorite sports to do (even if you don’t do them any more)/. Favorite teams as a fan/. Like, love, adore sports/. Disdain, despise sports/ Favorite ‘good’ books/. Favorite guilty pleasure books/. Favorite childhood books/. 3 favorite colors in order/. Go to museums/. Favorite museums/. Favorite movies stars from the past/. Favorite movie stars from the present/. All-time favorite guy actor/. All time favorite woman actor/.
    Favorite eras in order (ancient, medieval, 18th c, now, future, other)/. Favorite animals/. Favorite birds/. Favorite junk or comfort food/. Favorite trees/.
    When you are sad, do you get better by going off by yourself, chatting with family or friends, going for a drive, playing a sport, watching TV/. Favorite TV programs past/. Favorite TV programs recent/. What news channel do you watch most/. Favorite childhood stories, books/. Scariest childhood story or type of story/. Favorite childhood characters, human or not (from stories, movies, &/or books)/. Favorite pet(s)/. Have pet(s)/. Names of pets/. Favorite childhood pet(s) & name if you had a pet/.
     Are you a day person (when you have a choice)/. Or a night person/. In a fantasy story, you would be ————/. (princess, queen, prince, king, astronaut, intrepid explorer, baseball player, &c) Favorite historical heroes or famous figures/. Most hated feared historical figure (other than Hitler)/. Feared or hated fictional character/. Desert island book – the one book to take with you/. Favorite gem stone/.
     Birth date & year, place, time/. If you know your sign/. Rising sign/. Moon sign/. Are you an optimist, pessimist, cynic/. Your political party/. Is politics somewhat or very or extremely important to you/. Favorite political figures, past & recent/. Your favorite president/. Your least favorite president/. Most inspirational figures real or fictional/.
   Key qualities of your best friend/. Several favorite holidays/. The kind of art you like (painting, sculpture, architecture &c/.) Are you a loner or do you like to be around with friends or family/. Favorite comic book hero/. Your Religion or Spiritual path/. What was your childhood Religion/. Are you lapsed or rebelled or devout/. Most inspirational female figure, male figure/. What name do you wish you had that is not your own/. If you were a hero in an adventure book, what kind of hero would you be/. If you had a Native American name, what would you like it to be/.
     Most pressing area of concern in your life/. If you won a billion dollars, what would you do with some of it for fun/. If you gave some to a charity or organization, which one/.
    If you could start a very cool school in anything (not to make a living, but to share a passion), what would that school be/.
    Present or recent job/. Dream job/. On vacation if you really had a choice, you’d be active, indulge in sloth, other/. Where is your favorite country to visit or that you would wish to visit if you could travel/. Do you travel often/. Where/. Games you like to play/. Favorite childhood game/. Hobbies/. Do you draw/. If you could be anyone not yourself, real or fictional, anytime in history, who would it be/.
    Are you quiet, serious, funny, cheerful, morose &c/. Please pick 5 adjectives to describe yourself/. What is one of your very best qualities/. What is one of your very worst qualities/. If you had a magic wand, what is the one thing you’d change about yourself/. Your favorite flowers/. Married, single, divorced, living with someone, dating, limbo/.
    What kind of phrase would you use to describe your more secret self (Incurable Romantic; Visionary; Happy Sloth; eat Ice Cream & read Books; Other/.)
    If you are doing this anonymously, please give me a name or handle I can use to speak to you with/. Or even if I know your name, let me know if you’d prefer in your holoscope that I use another name or handle/.
 
    Please ask one-three (quick is fine) questions that will guide the shape of my holoscope for you/. Tell me your reason for wanting a holoscope – general curiosity; tonic; cosmic peptalk; relationship woes or growth; job/life direction; electroshock to a stagnant system; exploration of quantum & holospheric future; wild psychic adventure; all of the above; who knows; other/.
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<?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Readings & Educational Services Available
 
t Holoscope, the horoscope evolved.
 
t Quantum College Junior Year Not-Abroad/Masters /PhD
.. change your life to a degree just short of unbearable joy.
 
I will take up to five students of any age between 16 & 96 years old for a Quantum College Junior Year Not-Abroad. Certain people may wish to embark on a Quantum Masters Program. Upon which could follow a PhD.
 
What would this be about? Read all of pogblog’s Archives and you will get the drift – except designed to hone your passions. Or discover them.
 
I have been lucky enough to have lived an astonishing life. I’ve been a teacher for much of it. I would like to offer intensive tutoring in how to be on fire and stay sane.
 
None of this would count for Accreditation in your Usual School. It would change your life or your kid’s life to a degree of just short of unbearable raw joy. That’s the degree. Not widely available.

 
Please email me for brochure at pogblog@yahoo.com.   
 
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These are a few of the unsolicited testimonials from my TV students of every age, gender, race, and creed whom I taught from 2000-2005. They are too kind by far, but they are from the people I immediately affected. These gentle words are from my community TV students all the way from 16 years old to 83 years old.
…………. 
You have touched so many lives and been such a huge part of the success of people’s programs and the Station's national awards. Your dedication and special magic are an inspiration and support to all who come near your amazing teacher’s heart.  Mary J.
 
…for you personally and for all of us who cherish the idea and possibility of community TV and cherish you because it was you who instilled a love for it in us. You, who introduced to us the intimacy of a camera. From those of us you trained and always nurture. Roy H.
 
I will always remember the fun time I had in your class. youpassion and excitement are wonderful rare qualities, and I was blessed to be touched by them. Sheila M.
 
I have worked with many creative people across the US and internationally. You are certainly a jewel and have made remarkable contributions to the creative work of your lucky students.  Kim S.
 
We have a flame that needs to burn, and with your inspiration it will not be extinguished. Ray S.

 
You are a nonstop teacher whose wisdom pours out with such ease. Teaching and coaching are your greatest talent and virtue. You serve as an icon to personal integrity. Pat F.
 
Your skill, dedication and knowledge inspire me. Thank you for your motivation for everything, especially to get my show off the ground. Without that it could not have started. Arun P.
 
I loved listening to everything you taught me in the class, you brought so much light, wisdom, laughter and care to what you were doing with us. You are a kind, compassionate, passionate, charming, intelligent, magical, enlightening, fun, woman who has blessed my life with the life you share with me and the rest of us fortunate people who you blessed with your class. When I think of you, I think of what a great speaker and teacher you are and how I can possibly help you to share that with more people. Tia T.
 
You’re the best teacher ever. I wish somebody had told me to leave my Inner Perfectionist in Fiji 50 years ago! Joan H.
 
You are a gem of generosity, understanding and hope. Your good-hearted, good-humored character and skills inspire our whole class to take creative risks. Thank you! James C.
 
You are a treasure for community TV! You are full of love and life and I feel privileged that you are on this whirling, precious mudball.  Richard G.
 
You've served as a personal role model for me. I have never seen anyone throw themselves into their work with such obvious dedication and passion for their work as you do. Stan N.
 
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58

Druid Junior Year Not-Abroad .. & Masters & PhD

 

Druid Junior Year Not-Abroad ..

& Masters & PhD

.. change your life to a degree just short of unbearable joy ..

image

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By email & phone, I will take up students of any age between 16 & 96 years old for a Druid College Junior Year Not-Abroad. Certain people may wish to embark on a Druid Masters Program. Upon which could follow a PhD.

 

What would this be about? Read pogblog Ask Dr. Druid Archives & you will get the drift – except designed to hone your passions. Or discover them.

 

I have been lucky enough to have lived an astonishing life. I’ve been a teacher for much of it. I would like to offer intensive tutoring in how to be on fire and stay sane.

 

None of this would count for Accreditation in your <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Usual School. It would, however, change your life or your kid’s life to a degree of just short of unbearable raw joy. That’s the degree. Not widely available. I'm not interested in peak experiences … I'm interested in a peak life.

 

This is about alchemy of mind, about the integration of lucid waking & lucid dreaming. You will learn to write. You will find your own voice. Whatever your art is now, you will strip away the veils. If you haven’t found your arts yet, you will.

 

We will design a program that is tailored to your strengths and weaknesses, your budget, and your age. Some people need to gallivant. Some need to develop a fruitful slothism. Some, some of both probably.

 

For some, we could proceed entirely online. Others, it may suit us to meet occasionally. 

 

I will send you more details and the fee list if you are somewhere between darn & wildly interested.

 

Please include a few sentences about why you’re darn or wildly interested. 

 

Please put druid in the subject line.   

 

askdrdruid@gmail.com  


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These are a few of the unsolicited testimonials from my TV students of every age, gender, race, and creed whom I taught from 2000-2005. They are too kind by far, but they are from the people I immediately affected. These gentle words are from my community TV students all the way from 16 years old to 83 years old.
…………. 
You have touched so many lives and been such a huge part of the success of people’s programs and the Station's national awards. Your dedication and special magic are an inspiration and support to all who come near your amazing teacher’s heart.  Mary J.
 
…for you personally and for all of us who cherish the idea and possibility of community TV and cherish you because it was you who instilled a love for it in us. You, who introduced to us the intimacy of a camera. From those of us you trained and always nurture. Roy H.
 
I will always remember the fun time I had in your class. youpassion and excitement are wonderful rare qualities, and I was blessed to be touched by them. Sheila M.
 
I have worked with many creative people across the US and internationally. You are certainly a jewel and have made remarkable contributions to the creative work of your lucky students.  Kim S.
 
We have a flame that needs to burn, and with your inspiration it will not be extinguished. Ray S.

 
You are a nonstop teacher whose wisdom pours out with such ease. Teaching and coaching are your greatest talent and virtue. You serve as an icon to personal integrity. Pat F.
 
Your skill, dedication and knowledge inspire me. Thank you for your motivation for everything, especially to get my show off the ground. Without that it could not have started. Arun P.
 
I loved listening to everything you taught me in the class, you brought so much light, wisdom, laughter and care to what you were doing with us. You are a kind, compassionate, passionate, charming, intelligent, magical, enlightening, fun, woman who has blessed my life with the life you share with me and the rest of us fortunate people who you blessed with your class. When I think of you, I think of what a great speaker and teacher you are and how I can possibly help you to share that with more people. Tia T.
 
You’re the best teacher ever. I wish somebody had told me to leave my Inner Perfectionist in Fiji 50 years ago! Joan H.
 
You are a gem of generosity, understanding and hope. Your good-hearted, good-humored character and skills inspire our whole class to take creative risks. Thank you! James C.
 
You are a treasure for community TV! You are full of love and life and I feel privileged that you are on this whirling, precious mudball.  Richard G.
 
You've served as a personal role model for me. I have never seen anyone throw themselves into their work with such obvious dedication and passion for their work as you do. Stan N.
 
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88

Fegg .. quantum perception

Fegg .. quantum perception

    Fegg. F[aberge]egg. Fegg. Simple, splendid, extravagant, delicious, reverent, jeweled. Fegg. It is seeing and tasting that richness in the little world that is fegg. One of the Earth Decorator's most fegg is, of course, the hummingbird, an outrageous jeweled miniature envied on all planets of all stars. “Ah, Madame Deco,” an offworld Designer would sigh, hardly concealing stark envy, “How did you do it!?” Planet Designers are a good lot on the whole in spite of their universally being riddled with admiration twinned with envy. It's just that when you see something unbearably well done — the concept, the craft, the flash, the diligence, it haunts the heart with gratitude that it has been done–and envy that you didn't think of it first. Gratitude and applause minutely outweigh envy.

    It is no accident that having a clear sense of beauty, style, and fittingness is called ‘taste.' Fegg is the unpretentious exhilarating quintessence of taste. The eclectic rollicking embrace of teleology–the appreciation of design.

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    “Remember that the rose bush lavished with luxurious blossom is but a fantastic conjuror's trick–dormant dirt, water, sun animated by a pinch of some damn good design and presto: roses. Fegg. The real question is not how we can find reverence, but once we open our eyes, how we can avoid being paralyzed by awe?

    You would think that if a person woke from being a wraith in the twilight worlds to this technicolor extravaganza in which we dwell that that person would run around going WOW, GEE WHIZ. Somehow a lot of us got fegg-impaired. Forgot to surrender to delight

    The Faberge Imperial eggs (particularly the ones by Perchin)

image

are fabulous, and the notion of fegg derives a portion of its charm from the pleasure that human artisans can be so deft. But the planet's Designer has simply strewn our path with marvels upon marvels, has all but stuffed riches down our throat like fat corn down the foie gras goose's gullet.

    Faberge eggs usually hinged open to reveal some remarkable surprise, a spray of milky white chalcedony windflowers in a basket made of platinum and tiny diamonds, for instance. When your eyes have been pried open, you wake in the morning, look sleepily out the window, and put your hand to your heart in amazement. You are living inside a magnificent Faberge egg and you yourself are the surprise. You have been placed here tenderly by the same Artists who designed the stars. Fegg indeed. Not only are you here in this ingenious astound, a fact so impossible as to be miraculous, but you work. You can dance or sing a song. You can somersault. Do.

     We are so bombarded by idiot doctrines which distract us from the simple sustainable radiance which is our birthright, that we forget that we are a miraculous jewel set in a miraculous jewel. It's not just the big showy stuff like the exultant unbearable ocean or the wide wings of a hawk in the sapphire summer sky. It is the dainty spider who can walk upside down on the ceiling and the familiar grime around the kitchen light switch.

     You must start slowly because as you realize it is surprise within surprise and the knowledge multiplies crescendoing, the jolt of electricity searing in your blood can terrify you. The churches neglected to mention that the ecstatic vision and sensation is at your own fingertips, eyetips, tonguetip, nosetip, eartips. Your body can stand this surging power. Your body is designed to run at many mega-feggs of raw radiance. If you haven't tampered with the mechanism by drink, drugs, or stupid doctrines, the body has all the necessary safety systems.

    You can get as high on air as you like. You were designed for awe and delight. You were given senses and sense to be a co-designer in this blooming magic world. You cannot over-fegg.

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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:

http://pogblog.myblogsite.com

9 Death . Cimi . Twins . North . tzol 126  10.05.05 wed

ffwofw 650§8941/24d17h28m25s31.98gb/1092

..

the pro-peace world begins today with you

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The Blue out of which .. (in pagan female form here)

Please check pogblog’s Glossary for coined (invented) or unfamiliar words.

 

The Blue out of which ..

(in pagan female form here)


note: The Blue out of which like bright parrots appear ideas, sentences, niftinesses is always a pagan male pan-genius to me, but I wrote this for a man and realized that for him The Blue was likely to have this pagan female pan-genius feel. Change the pronouns to suit you.

 

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    The very <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />California painter of '67 Chryslers, Gran Torinos, and plastic-webbed deck chairs, Robert Bechtle became PhotoRealism, but that's way misleading. He (and Wayne Thiebaud of cakes & pinball machines & lollipops fame) wrestled with the angel of paint and light with devoted obsession. The holo-masterpiece in which we're immersed is so infuriatingly casual, abundant, — no, profligate with its seamless genius that a human artist is forced, like a lump of coal under diamond-making tons of not-ever relenting pressure, to hope for one homage at last, inevitably mere, that might merit a glance from the Queen of Creation as, with her dazzling entourage, she sweeps by.
      One may foul oneself as one will with post-pubescent-fuelled concupiscence, but Mama Earth is your mother and your lover and she is also the cackling crone whose pudgy thumb and forefinger snuff our candle. Art is incest in the most private seduction and rage. Devotion and hate so close they kiss.
      Using sharp focus at all depths of the image as our eyes do and a camera can't, Bechtle finally gets his homage, skin and auto-metal-skin reflections become eerily present; he handles the alchemic illusion with mastery, not overreaching, not distorting, — displaying like a slave who's seen glory – touched glory even – displaying the preferred façade (flesh, chintz, aluminum, stucco, garish cheap plastic back-yard chairs, asphalt) of the Goddess. “Yes, yes, Beloved who Breathes Us, whose luscious air dances in our baffled blood, I was your perfect servant

this afternoon. I wash my paintbrushes tenderly and will stretch a new canvas tomorrow. I noticed with astonishment. I noticed with devotion.”

     It is all you can say that ever gets heard. The rest is will-o-wisps and The Blue cannot hear it. She reads your heart like braille and knows if you are true or false.
 
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You see, to grok photonic physics, you cannot just use reason-sight. You have to train your art-sight too. 
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note: re seamless. In a biology lab class, I once drew a diagram of an amoeba I'd seen under a microscope, and I was marked down by the grad student who checked these lab papers because I had not carefully closed the amoebic oval. “Living things cannot have gaps in them,” she told me, “Nature cannot be so careless.”   Hmmm, I thought – seamless.
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Of course there’s no way to see the luminousness of these paintings unless you go to a museum, tho the 3 zoomable*  paintings give some notion.
  
Bechtle .. ’68 Oldsmobile*; Alameda Chrysler; Alameda Gran Torino; Sunset Intersection; 
Thiebaud .. California Cakes*; Big Suckers*;
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8 Serpent . Chicchan . East . tzol 125  10.04.05 tues
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58

A Handful of Air .. Photonic Physics

A Handful of Air .. Photonic Physics

    

    A single handful of air doesn’t weigh much, but you surround a planet with an atmosphere and it adds up. Similarly (tho not identically), your memory of, imagination of, dream of a landscape has a photonic mass that has to be accounted for – it is most of barklian existents.¹ Most of what I ‘know’ and experience has no K existence whatever. It may or may not have had a brief K component. (K1 is the kinesthetic or standard e=mc² daytime physics about which narrow-end¹ physics obsesses and to which it grants sole proprietorship of the reality label.)

     Repeatable science is important essential work. It should have funds and university departments up the yang. However, the 90% of our experience which has no immediate K1 component (& may indeed never have had a K1 flint moment of tactile, olfactory, gustatory or t-o-g interface at all), that 90% is all but discounted in its mass qualities. Masses of this photonic water flows through the brain pipe and does have complex physiological effects, but the correlations are hard to measure and impossible to repeat.

     So we diss &/or ignore the physics of 90% of our real if glancing and evanescent experience. Chaos theory legitimizes the study of the turbulence of water through a K1 pipe, but we aren’t even at the stage of accepting the vast photonic universe at all, least of all allowing arcane or niche creeks of study off an established river of flow.

   Our established Theoscience is very papal and dogmatic, and I think the initial insistent separation from other magics was a very good and necessary clarity at the time. But it is false – the baby was thrown out with the bathwater. It all interdwells and until we add the fabulously vast sea and the dainty filigrees of photonic science, we will know least of all honor little of the seamless truth. It self-evidently is unified whether we can explain it or not.

     It is no doubt true that it is very hard to stay objective when studying the mischievous, seductive photonic realm. You can ask for smart and for wise perhaps — but objective, nah.  (Objective is a crock anyhow which Heisenberg got.) You only get to study tame stuff in the repeatable-is-real mode. If you want to study tigers burning in the forests of the night you need different scopes.

    So what do you want in a photonic scientist or knower? I would say that an affection for the abzurd is handy. And especially useful is dear Keats’ Negative Capability: “ . . . which Shakespeare possessed so enormously – I mean

Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason — Coleridge, for instance, would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude caught from the Penetralium of mystery, from being incapable of remaining content with half-knowledge . . . .” 

     In my experience, K1 science is dog-like – predictable, obedient. You can put a leash on it. Photonic matter or e=mc∞ or photonic mattergy is like a cat – it purrs, it likes to be stroked, but obedient? Repeatable? ¡HaHa! Nada, nunca. Never. There are patterns and fields one can discern and mention – but the sensitivity and malleability and shapeshiftiness of the photonic mattergy, the holopaint,¹ makes and creates so sleekly and rapidly and rampantly that you can’t bottle it.

    You can, however, teach people to keep some of their wits about them while exploring and studying it. First, we’d have, in the West, to learn to honor play as much as work. Of things useless or criminally-insane-equivalent in PhotonicVille is the Protestant Work Ethic. We’d also have to recognize the flak of a huge and often appallingly puerile, sometimes enticing amount of raunch.

    We are not souls trapped in gross earthly bodies. That’s way too staid and prettyfied. We are rambunctious, fractal holokaleidocopic coalescences of energy & pattern inhabiting an unexpectedly stable bio-suit for a tidbit of time. The linear qualities of ‘our’ life are a useful fiction. I am all for lucid waking, defined and refined by science and art. We need to add lucid photonics (dreaming; memory; fantasy; imagination &c).

     We spend a lot of tasty fluids and other substances to relax or vanish the walls between us and the wilder sea. (These walls or levees are very darn useful – full-bloom schizophrenia or helpless dimensions-confusion isn’t fun. If, on the other hand, we are taught whole life skills (which I would dub hololife skills to more pointedly include the whole 24 that we do indeed live), we can have choices of walls or not — just like we put up and down the venetian blinds on the sunny side of the house.

    In 50 or 100 years, all these skills will be taught in Quantum Schools, but for the nonce, I’m plunking the more oneiro-skills,² the photonics into Clown School InterDimensional. The <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Quantum School stuff will take a smaller leap into schooling many more people better, but closer to the best of the prevailing model. Those of us who particularly love the future and the dear Penetralium of mystery can work on getting these fractal photonic science skill-sets translatable to those linear folk still made vertiginous by free fall. The coming time will not allow them to remain in their familiar mode; there will be vortexes and torques of mind&emotion that require the new skills.

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¹ + barklian existents – Irish Bishop Berkeley (pronounced Barkly) thought & I agree with him that all we could testify to were mental constructs of one kind or another. But there is the semi-consensual hallucination and then there are the photonic realms where we don’t yet share enough conscious experiences to make a lot of tests and claims tho we can poetically attest and resonate.       

+ narrow-end physics – narrow-end refers to the narrow end of the telescope. A wry tho not unkind suggestion that standard science is leaving out a whole lot of reality in order to preserve this repeatable thing. Damn, us poetry witches & wizards either got burned or spurned. But our time is comin’, darlin’.

 

+ holo-paint .. The photonic worlds are as if magically painted into existence by a paint which is 3D rather than 2D. It paints landscapes you can walk in rather than lookat on a wall. Very tricksy stuff holopaint.

 

² + oneiro-skills .. oneiro = dream in Greek.

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7 Lizard . Kan . South . tzol 124  10.03.05 mon 

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A Pagan Goddess Does Irony

A Pagan Goddess Does Irony

 I am the Lordess of All and my name is Complexify. I have wrought and do maintain each tuft of fur on your cat’s soft back. And its hearing ears.

 Each leaf. Count them. All the shades of green. Each cloud. In all the sky. From dawn to dusk. And while you dream. Your dreams. Each fringed egret. Each crow. Each lizard basking on the hot stones.

 All the ocean. Every wave on every beach. The tumult. The surge. The purr of the lace flung up the tawny sand. The glisten. Listen. Attend.

 I am the Lordess. I do this and I do not cease. And I do this on every third planet of a billion billion suns. My name is Complexify. When you doubt, put your finger on my pulse and admire. I do do rather a lot to inspire. Every second that you forget, I remember.

 Each thread. All the weavers. Each syllable. Each sigh. Each song. Teach each. Wake up. Admire. Catch fire. Your hand and its tiny obedient bones is a miracle. Your eyes are a triumph of ingenuity and design. All mine. I have painted each parrot feather in shocking shades, and tinct the flamingo with impossible pink.

 I make the spit under your tongue so you can speak glory. You dwell in a church without walls. Start listening with the soles of your feet. You ride the finest galactic surfboard ever wrought, slinging you 17,000 miles per hour on the most intricate and spectacular ride ever devised. Love it a lot. Get cool.

 It’s a love letter I write you that’s always in your mailbox. I never forget. Look, I work hard at this stuff. I want you to be flabbered, gasted. It is lovely. It is riveting. Enjoy your toy. We are partners in this project. I can’t do joy alone. I made you joyable — joy-able. I cannot force you to be joyfull. Though in all candor, it seems to me that only a cretin would mope, stay tepid, be dyspeptic. It’s a frolic. ‘Frolic’ means ‘swift gladness.’ Get jolic. Jest, rest, be blest.


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6 Night . Akbal . Hearth . West . tzol 123  10.02.05 sun
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Education, ultraband, & the End of Militarism

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Education, ultraband,

& the End of Militarism

 

Education does not make you a better person – it makes you a luckier person.



Let me remind this conversation again that by education, I do not mean trade schools like law school or med school or plumber school, however fancy or fortunate. I mean a broad and rigorous exposure to the fruits of civilization that could increase your appreciation for individual differences.
 
Great education is like putting a permanent IV in your arm renewing you with a plasma of fascination, with an ignited enthusiasm. Great education doesn’t teach you anything except how to learn, an earnest deftness of mind and heart which you can apply to the electric present. It’s splendid and lucky to be confidently curious all the time.

I wrote the following in response to a Justice Week article on chancelucky who has kindly taken up my cause of saying pro-peace rather than anti-war. Then I added some somersaults for us here at the pogblog bbq.  Chancelucky and me both bleed education.

The reasons for the icepicks & the guillotines are to wake the slumbering and to give energy to the activists. So rage has its uses. (The demand for civility from the BunkerBusting Bomb Crowd is a pretty hollow joke. Death &/or mutilation by one's own hand or by proxy are the ultimate rudenesses which cannot be trumped by caterwauling however vehemently crude.)

However, I entirely agree that the pro-peace movement needs to focus on a few key necessities for freedom. 

A reminder of the notion of a progressive message before we mosey on. You'll get tired of the number of ways I put the following Agenda List, but that's what Staying On Message is about. I recommend that we embrace(& therefore defuse) their Talking Points' derisive description and say, “Yep, that pesky Far Looney Left Extremist Agenda is universal healthcare; a superb, public K-College education for every child; a treasured and revered environment; a robust living wage; and nationwide free wireless internet ultra-broadband.” If you generally agree, then you need to memorize these and blurt them out to friend and foe at every opportunity. The acronym for Far Looney Left Extremist Agenda is FLLEA – amusing, therefore easy to remember. Pogblog commentator yogaartnat submitted the elegant Happy Elephants Embracing With Burros as a mnemonic device to remember the Far Looney Left Extremist Agenda Talking Points – Healthcare, Education, Environment, Wages, Broadband.

If *I* had to put all my eggs in one basket, it'd be the fabulous education for every person. I wrote a Fable called Justice & Education which demonstrates conclusively that you could gloriously educate everyone and still get all the grotty jobs shared out.

We should immediately begin to shift the Military Industrial Complex to the Educational Indusrial Complex, — $820,000 per minute (Military Budget not counting Iraq which is another $200,000 per minute) should allow us to shift the greatest, most ingenious and demonstrable excellences of any private and public educations to every hamlet — all connected by ultrabroadband or ultraband.
 
If we set our complete national will to this, we could begin to export our education design modules and ignite a national firestorm of invention and creativity in five or ten years.    

This pro-peace plan needs the vision for construction and collaboration that the
<?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Manhattan Project brought to destruction and competition.
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5 Wind . Ik . Whirlwind . North . tzol 122  10.01.05 sat
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The Brown Bird of Happiness

The Brown Bird of Happiness

I had one of those particularly vivid dreams where you know that ‘dreaming’ is just another facet of immensely meaningful reality, that magnificent toy of consciousness. When I woke I was all ashiver with laughing and delight.

 In my dream all the people had been looking for this wonderful blue bird who had done something heroic. I could make up a deed for you, but frankly I don’t remember what the deed was. Everyone was gossiping and ‘Have you heard-ing’ about the blue bird. “Have you seen it?” “No, but I know someone who said she saw it yesterday.” The dream was abuzz with chat and tidbits about the blue bird. We were all looking hither and looking yon for the blue bird.

 I came around a corner and there was a large bird slightly stuck in a big jar. Doing my best ‘taking a thorn from the paw of the lion’ routine, I gently unstuck this large bird from the jar. The bird had the jaunty top knot and very triangular beak of a cardinal, but he was a deep chocolate brown color instead of scarlet and was about ten times the size. As I gently cradled this big brown bird in my arms against my chest and smoothed his shiny feathers, I was struck with the sudden absurd and delicious knowledge that this was the hero bird that everyone had been searching for. His belly feathers were so soft, and ruffled in the warm breeze. He looked me mischievously in the eye. He wasn’t blue at all. He was the brown bird of happiness.

 Of course. I knew at once the breathtaking truth. Our ideas of happiness are quite rigidly conditioned. We are all searching diligently or frantically for versions of happiness, items of happiness, that are imposed upon us by the subtle tyranny of the past. Birds of happiness are blue, we are quite sure. This tyranny is distinctly insidious. It prevents what’s happening right under our noses from being happiness. Instead we have restless, inchoate longings for happinesses defined, not by our own present deft attention, but by other agents. Parents, friends, movies, books, religions, the patterns of our own past.

 The large brown bird nestled calmly in my arms. His feathers were very dry and rustled when I hugged him gently. Very gently because although he weighed quite a lot, he was startlingly light for his size.

 He had given me anew a present of the present, this brown bird of happiness. He had stirred and spurred me to dwell in a vivid immediacy. One could only stay alert because who knew? Happiness might turn out to be a brown bird, not blue. If one insisted on it being blue, one might miss happiness altogether.

 I was loath to give him up, my brown bird of happiness, but I had to let him go too. I couldn’t just trade blue for brown. This was the hardest part. He could always fly in my inner sky as a talisman, a reminder, but I couldn’t clutch on to him either.

 This morning, happiness might be the smooth white paper I’m writing on or the slightly grungy white wool socks that are keeping my feet warm. Or the whisper of my pencil lead across the paper. Perhaps the plush silver Burmese kitten, Frolic, who’s convinced that a ratty scrap of paper she found under my desk is a toy. Or the next bird of happiness I find might even be blue.

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Quit Smoking, Quit Religion, How To

Quit Smoking, Quit Religion, How To

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   Christians and other religious Zealots are like smokers and boomboxers, and, sadly, like the poor, they’ll probably always be with us. It’s when the Evangelicals took the fateful turn to Avengelicals in about 1980 that we should have gotten frightened, very frightened. It’s late now – I hope not too late.

     As someone who, in the upstairs bathroom, started smoking Parliament cigarettes pilfered from my Mother when I was twelve (tho I never smoked my Mother’s religion); as someone who smoked a pack a day, often Camel straights, for 30 years; as someone who went cold turkey seven days before my sister’s gala wedding with its parties and wines and champagnes, I’m here to bring you the good news that horrible and deadly addictions can be quit cold cold turkey, and after two weeks, 14 days, a fortnight of vigilance against the Insinuating Voice of the Inner Tempter, you are free and clear and living a more wholesome new life under a kind of cosmic Witness Protection Program. Nicotine and Religion and Heroin are three of the most addictive substances on Earth. They can be quit.

    And society can say, we’ve had enough of that crap. These new virulent Christians are exactly like smokers of yore who used to blow smoke in your face without a thought to your personal ecology. We have to speak out, stand up, and say, “What you do in the privacy of your own room is your own weird business, but I have the right to work and be governed without your, to me, soul-threatening, toxic christiotine tarring up my lungs. If that’s your poison, happy to it, but leave me and mine deeply alone.

    Trust me, I would one mile short of infinity rather be puttering around admiring the origami petals of the begonia – begonia begonia burning bright in the forest of my morning than riding the Steed of Wrath against the tediously ever-present overtly zealous Christians who like the mannersless Picts and Visigoths have invaded and befouled our simple, cheerful lives previously blissfully devoid of their Savior the Lord Jesus Christ, that occasionally insightful whippersnapper.

     There were three vials worth of Wrath that led to the launching of this anti-Crusade, this war against the once-insidious, now braying and blatant Zealotorism.

     Well, the first two were vials of Disbelief. The last turned the water of Incredulity into the wine of Wrath.

    Probably eight years ago – I don’t quantify time well – I was in our local Red Rock café  talking to a very nice middle-aged woman, Amy Turner, a Democrat, a person of deep thought and earned and practiced compassion. I knew she was a sincere Christian whose ‘faith’ informs and enfolds her heart and soul. Far be it from me, a jolly and happy heathen who dances at the Altar of Comedy to begrudge her her comforting and perhaps invigorating hallucinations. It’s all a smorgasbord. You eat squid tentacles. I don’t. You have a weekly slurp of your god’s blood. I don’t. No harm, no foul. So far, so jolly.

    “Amy, I need to ask you a question,” I say. We’re sitting at the big round table in the north corner of the café. Well, I know the likely answer to this question intellectually as you, dear reader, will think you do. But slow your thoughts down and perceive this slower, thicker, like blood or molasses, with heart-thought.

    “Amy, you know that I am generally good, that I actively act upon principle and honor in a daily way, imperfectly but earnestly. I need to know if I, your friend, must go, in your Christian view, to Hell because I will never take Jesus as my savior?”

      It was as horrible a 40 seconds as I’ve spent. Blood rose in her face. Then she went pale. A clammy sweat broke out on her face. She was unable to look at me. She said, “It is the single hardest thing about my Christian faith,” in a voice strangled quiet and of agony.

   “You would watch me, your friend pog, be herded onto the Down Escalator (I could still summon a grim joke)?” She could not speak. She nodded.

     A few years later, there was Ben Davis, a Christian friend who actively studied and practiced local decency, though schizophrenically a convinced capitalist and a high-order of screw-the-peasants Republican. An economic and political pitbull and a personal Golden Retriever. At a point when we knew each other very well, I asked the dreaded Down Escalator Question. “I hate it, but I have to believe it,” he says, also stricken with dismay.

   I thought – oh the open-hearted pagan naiveté – in both cases that a living breathing friend would trump a doctrine. That they would say, ‘I believe and cleave to my Faith and eschew this clearly dumb garbage that would cast a friend who is good into the fiery pits for an eternity of conscious torment.’ That’s what I would have said. I would have ripped from the Book the stupid pages which damned my friend who was good. (Probably even my friend who was bad if nothing but the truth be told.) I still reel when I think of it – the horribleness of a spiritual addiction that would condemn your friend. That’s deeply ugly stuff. This is the nub, the hub, the rub – it is this willingness to choose a spiritual or political belief over a person that leads to all this collateral damage that litters the juggernaut swath of destruction that Christianity has scathed through history. I, real pog, was collateral damage to my two Christian friends, an unfortunate but necessary cost for an Idea. Ask your Christian friend the Fiery Pit/Eternal Conscious Torment Question. The horror the horror.

    I still don’t care if they hold their repugnant ideas in private – between or even among consenting adults, who really cares? How you beat upon your spiritual gonads is your business – just, please, get a room.

    I forgot – there are four tipping points. The first two are the cast-good-ole-pog-into-hellfires friends. Then a few months ago, I surfed upon a program on CNN. There was this poised, lively little seven-year-old girl, articulate, vivid. Her pleasant-looking, apparently un-horned, un-cloven hooved mother was home-schooling this child. The interviewer off-camera asked the little girl something like, “How did religion start in your life?” This marvelous child piped up in her little girl’s voice, “When I was three years old, I took the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal Savior and He saved me from Sin.”

   Sin? Sin? You were three years old. Sin?

    What sane person could poison the mind of a three-year-old child with the idea that they are sinful? What sane person could poison the mind of a three-year-old child with the idea that they are sinful?

    The 4th tipping point for me is Van Orden v. Perry condoning the garish Ten Commandments monument on public ground in the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />Texas state capitol. The state should not support Christian granite,¹ nor paper, nor heads-of-pins monuments. It is not a Christian Nation – it’s all of ours, so the idea of democracy says.

     It’s hard to rile a pagan. We never got kicked out of the Inner Garden of Earthly Delights. Basically, we don’t want to be fussed and we don’t want to fuss you. But your Stupid, Belligerent Narrow-minded, Narrow-hearted God is Not the Lord, my God, and I’m sick of it now. How dare you tell gay people they can’t get married? How dare you tell a woman she must bear a child she can’t emotionally or financially cherish? How dare you support the Military Death Machine? The first big act of JC was to kick over the tables of the money changers and you applaud grotesque profits?

    One of the Founding fathers, John Adams suggested to Thomas Jefferson that he take the Christian Bible and a pair of scissors and cut out everything that was stupid, cruel, tribal, and insane. In what is known as the Jefferson Bible, a very few wise pages are left. Which should be embraced in the Eclectic Canon of Merry Good Sense smorgasbord of kind and wry thoughtfulness where we might all be nourished.

    As to the rabid stuff Thomas Jefferson left on the cutting room floor, dear Christians, please take your meds.

    Sweeter honey bee Christians vs the sting-everybody-to-death swarming Killer Bees Christians — consider that to do the right thing, the just thing, you might have to gainsay your very Faith. Which is, of course what Jesus did in his time. It don’t matter what a Book says, your father, your preacher, even if they say Jesus said it – you can’t join in or even stand by while a good person is kicked off the cliff into the Fiery Pits. It ain’t right. (And of course the Stupid Book got it wrong, and your father and the preacher. Horribly, the Universe forgives forever, but that’s another story for another campfire.) It can be a hard and lonely read, conscience, but what are we doing still lauding red-glaring rockets and bursting bombs in our national song? Ain’t right, it’s wrong. Suppose all the Books vanished for a decade (Books and sutras and all of the other fancy dress Clothes stored in the attic or the basement) – and we had to think for ourselves and couldn’t quote any bludgeoning verses?

    If I revere my Lord & Savior Chocolate Ice Cream, am I less saved than you? What universal law requires redemption to be solemn?

    At least if I fight with Ridicule, and believe me, brother, I will, at least you have a chance to tut-tut and berate the frivolous infidel or whatever feeble outcry you noisily raise against the Trumpet of my Ridiculously Righteous Wrath. Against bunkerbusting bombs, none of us rises again on the third day, pilgrim – Jesus neither. Think it through and through. Quit blowin’ your smelly holy smoke in my face; whatever you’re smoking makes you dangerous and cruel and paranoid. If you can’t go cold cold turkey, at least quit smoking on our parade.

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¹ pict of Christian granite monument;

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