On Lifting a Finger

Michael Yon, whose missives to my inbox tend to contain a call to attention and preparation, along with truths and genuine concerns that ride the edge of doom and gloom, sent a video link yesterday. It went to one of those in-the-moment cartoon drawings on whiteboard illustrations/explanations, presented by After Skool.  This one, liberally sprinkled with paintings and quotations, was entitled "A Killing of the Mind", on the subject of Mass Psychosis--how an entire population becomes mentally ill.  As I was watching it, part of me felt like I was being sold something and another part was saying, "Oh, my! Does this make sense or what??"  Figuring out where to land after taking it in involved looking up Gustav Le Bon, Joost Meerloo, and Vaclav Havel for a start.  Toward the end of the video, a five fingered approach (referred to in the vid as "multi-pronged!) to the problem of mass psychosis was listed, coincidentally providing yet another possible answer to the earlier question of which finger to lift!  

From the video, the first step in their approach is to "bring order to our own minds, and live in a way that provides inspiration to others".  Then commit to:

-Spread information that counters propaganda as far and wide as possible, for "truth is more powerful than the fiction and falsities pedaled by would be totalitarian rulers".

-Use humor and ridicule to delegitimize the ruling elite

-Construct "Parallel Structures" (per Vaclav Havel) as any form of organization--business, institution, technology, or creative pursuit that exists physically within a totalitarian society yet morally outside of it.  (more explanation at the 19:15 mark)

-Action, practiced by as many people as possible, in a deliberate, concerted effort to move the world back in the direction of freedom  

Here's the link, (which I can't get to imbed) for your own consideration as you regard the dilemma of what to believe, how to move forward and which finger you may or may not wish to raise:

https://rumble.com/vo0dwu-mass-psychosis-how-an-entire-population-becomes-mentally-ill.html

“As God is my witness, I thought turkeys could fly.” Happy Thanksgivi...

Doesn’t Slow Joe remind you of Les Nessman?

Happy Thanksgiving!

To all you witches!

"The Black Lives Matter Christmas Massacre"

Do not ignore nor whitewash what that was. BLM, beloved by corporations and law profs nationwide, is directly responsible for the killing and maiming of White Christians. We are at war but currently only one side is fighting, and they are winning.

This was a terrorist act, done by a career criminal who is jealous of the accomplishments of Whites and who hates America, and to call it anything else is bullshit.

Call it winning if you want to, but it sure looks like the murder of innocents to me. 

One more thing, that asshole Trump is still pimping the clot shot and he can fuck off and die as far as I am concerned. It's been over a year and reinstatement is not going to happen. Please name one country that has peacefully removed communists from power. I'll wait.

One Who Is Vigilant

It's been another lousy week for the bad guys. I appreciate a lot of people feel like Troop, but we ought to take a look at where we are.

Rittenhouse walks, "hundreds" protest (doubtless wary of more "vigilantes"), and some black racist career criminal plows his SUV into a parade, Among the 6 dead are 4 of the Dancing Grannies. Fake News is killing itself trying to ignore it. CDC announces the Birx Barf vaccines' effect declines rather rapidly (New England Journal pegs it at 2 months). People are refusing the shot in the tens, if not hundreds,of millions. Demonstrations around the world protest medical dictatorship. Even though the, "Let them eat cake crowd", crowd on the Left is trying to cast inflation as a good thing, it would appear people are still thankful.

The Left whines about white supremacy and Thanksgiving being like Columbus Day, not realizing the the Indians were colonizing and stuff long before the white men got here (you never read how the Iroquois exterminated several tribes?), but most of the country celebrates a good verdict, all-American holidays, buys Let's Go Brandon stuff for Christmas, and smiles as 2 racists feud with each other.

Indigenous Peoples Day has been a big flop, mostly because the country sees the Native American dodge for the scam it is. Our red brethren prefer to be called American Indians, saying you can be white, brown, yellow, or black and be a native American. Very tolerant and civilized, these American Indians.

If the country, in the wake of Lefty DAs' and mayors' insistence on letting the hoodla run wild, decides Committees of Vigilance are the answer, it will be reaffirmation of another great American tradition. The Vigilantes worked prodigies in San Fiasco at the height of the Gold Rush and in pretty much the same political climate. A few of the roughs banished, a couple of murderers strung up and it's safe to walk the streets

What fascinates me is how the Left loves to invoke the word, vigilante, against anybody who fights back, even though it turns the people who fought into folk heroes. Remember Bernie Goetz, the "subway vigilante", who took on 4 thugs and won? Vigilantism is, to quote Rap Brown, as American as apple pie. Hey, couldn't the Lone Ranger be considered a vigilante? The people protecting their freedom when government refuses to.

Again, I say we are winning and, better, they are losing.

Let that be the whipped cream on your punkin pie

On blogging

 

Blogging is an interesting thing. I love to do it. But it sometimes becomes a chore. 

You see the politics of it has begun to bore me. Wait that's not true. It has always sort of bored me. That's why my blogs always had a ton of non-political posts. I can't get upset so much at the vagaries and bullshit of the current outrages. I know where I stand. Most people are set in their positions. The latest outrage is just the latest outrage. If it's not Trayvon Martin it is Kyle Rittenhouse. It's all the same bullshit.

I come to realize that I want to blog about my personal doings. Which I don't think a lot of people are interested in. Or should be revealed and talked about for one reason or another. So I let days go by before I blog something.

I hope I can got more inspired. It is just that Slow Joe Biden has sucked all of the interest out of me. 

I mean he really sucks.

I was told there would be no Dylan

I have longed to move away

From the hissing of the spent lie
And the old terrors' continual cry
Growing more terrible as the day
Goes over the hill into the deep sea;
I have longed to move away
From the repetition of salutes,
For there are ghosts in the air
And ghostly echoes on paper,
And the thunder of calls and notes.

I have longed to move away but am afraid;
Some life, yet unspent, might explode
Out of the old lie burning on the ground,
And, crackling into the air, leave me half-blind.
Neither by night's ancient fear,
The parting of hat from hair,
Pursed lips at the receiver,
Shall I fall to death's feather.
By these I would not care to die,
Half convention and half lie.

Whose that girl that gave Elvis a Chubby?

 

The King had many hot chicks co starring in his movies. Mary Tyler Moore. Ann Margaret. Barbara Eden. Hope Lange. Ursula Andress. Yvonne Craig. 

But only one of them made him stop swiveling his hips and start making a tent in his trousers. On camera.

Whose that girl?

Not quite Heaven!

For the past couple of months I have been teasing the wife about going to a concert. You see she bought tickets with her three best girlfriends from when she was a kid to go see an Eighties band. The Psychedelic Furs.

Now this was a big production. Two of the girls were traveling from the bowels of Jersey to Long Island so it was a four hour trip with traffic. We have been talking about it for months. You know where would they eat before because Lisa needs gluten free. Just recently they have been texting about being worried about being crushed in the crowd but I told them not to worry because all of the fans would have walkers that would get in the way. Also they should be sure to bring their Depends to throw up on the stage.

You see the fan base was pretty old. Just not as bad as the band.

So they get all tarted up to go in their best concert going garb. You haven't seen anything until you see four sixty year old women dressed like Madonna. They went off happily on their adventure. I was happy too.  I was going to be able to order a regular pizza  that was not gluten free and watch a Western. Just like the good old days. In fact I ordered a pizza, a calzone and some mozzarella sticks. Why not go for the hat trick.

The girls get to the venue and go for dinner. The Mexican Restaurant next door was very good and had some really good gluten free options. So they had a few pops and a plate of fajitas and they were primed and ready to go. They walk down the street to the theater and what do they find.

The Fucking Furs had cancelled the concert.

They were freaking out. They proceeded to bitch slapped the people at the venue Old School Brooklyn Style. When Lisa texted me I said that there was only one thing to do. Go to the bar. So they did.

The joint had this speak easy type club that they got comped to and their first drink free. They took over the joint and made the bartender play eighties music and dance. A bunch of thirty year old's joined in and danced and sung all the words. When the girls asked how they knew it they said that it was their Mom's favorite music. They had to hold Lisa back from slapping the shit out of them.

Meanwhile back at the ranch I was eating my pizza extravaganza. You know what? I had been talking about this for months and it wasn't really that good. I mean the calzone was subpar and the pizza nothing to write home about. It just wasn't The House of Pizza or Spumoni Gardens quality. So I sat home and listed to the lonely saxophone while the girls drank and cavorted. 

Everybody got home safe although they had nasty hangovers. I had the shits from the pizza. But at least we weren't like the Furs.

Some bands are tragically hip.

Some bands are tragically broken hip.

So they have to cancel a long anticipated concert.

The fuckers.

 

On Birds, Bees, Manly Men and Double X Women

 This, from Powerline, came through as fun, as it addresses my current dilemma of knowing how to identify, acknowledge or refer to the mostly manly men and primarily double XX women I know.  Or maybe better said, the predominant groupings in my purview.  I'm currently leaning toward use of the terms, "genetic male" and "genetic female", as that what works best for me and appears to be a fit for the natural world of birds, bees, raccoons, porcupines, chipmunks, possums, frogs, rodents, coyotes, and deer around me.

On Predators and Prey; Evil and OddFathers

 Two of the blogs I checked into today, Neo and Don Surber, both caught my attention with posts that brought me back to the notes I’ve been taking and keeping under the heading of Cowboys and Evil, after mention of those two subjects was made last month here at Levity.  

Neo’s post on predators and prey entitled: Rittenhouse was (and is) the designated prey of psychopathic wolves, brought clarity and invited insight into the motives and intents of those involved in the Rittenhouse chase and shooting.  It confirmed the thought I’d had earlier, after learning of Rosenbaum’s record of sexual molestation involving young boys, that it was likely he was experienced (savvy, to use Neo's word) in sensing vulnerability and setting up/hunting down victims, as abusers and bullies tend to have an uncanny ability to sniff out their prey.   Which had started me wondering: Who was the cowboy?  Who was the outlaw? And, what was driving all involved to do what they did?

Surber’s post from yesterday, on President Oddfather, also opened the door to more by setting up the Oddfather parallel, while coming right out with naming the person involved as evil. 

Both tied into what I’ve been reading and thinking about after pulling an almost 40 year old copy of Scott Pecks “People of the Lie” (1983) off the shelf in my downstairs library to re-read it, along with “Further Along the Road Less Traveled” (1993) based on Peck’s lectures.  Though I’m not yet ready to post on the notes taken from those two books, I'll close with this from Peck, which also, in a reverse way, addresses the situations presented at both links:

“Mental health is the ongoing process of dedication to reality at all costs."

Panda Sex with Trooper’s Aberrations.”

 

    

                  

lonely as a dry and used orchard
spread over the earth
for use and surrender.

shot down like an ex-pug selling
dailies on the corner.

taken by tears like 
an aging chorus girl
who has gotten her last check.

a hanky is in order your lord your
worship.

the blackbirds are rough today
like
ingrown toenails
in an overnight
jail---
wine wine whine,
the blackbirds run around and
fly around
harping about
Spanish melodies and bones.

and everywhere is
nowhere---
the dream is as bad as
flapjacks and flat tires:

why do we go on
with our minds and
pockets full of
dust
like a bad boy just out of
school---
you tell
me,
you who were a hero in some
revolution
you who teach children
you who drink with calmness
you who own large homes
and walk in gardens
you who have killed a man and own a
beautiful wife
you tell me
why I am on fire like old dry
garbage.

we might surely have some interesting
aberrations,
it will keep the shrinks busy.
and the butterflies and ants and bridges and
cemeteries
the rocket-makers and dogs and garage mechanics
will still go on a
while
until we run out of stamps
and/or
ideas.

don't be ashamed of
anything; I guess God meant it all
like
locks on 
doors.

“It’s the Great Negro Charley Brown”

 

Linus [writing to the Great Negro]: "You must get discouraged because more people believe in Santa Claus than you. Well, let's face it; Santa Claus is white, but being number two, perhaps you should lead a riot. Nothing combats white supremacy more than looting a CVS.”

On Darkness and Gravity, Light and Levity

This past weekend I opened a book of poetry that's been sitting unopened on a shelf in my studio ever since I moved in over two years ago, just prior to the arrival of Covid in January of 2020.  The first poem I turned to made me smile as it was an offering from Charles Bukowski, a poet first encountered through Trooper York's online aberrations.  It also reminded me of mention made previously by a commenter here on death as a hunter, and edutcher's recent post on fighting. 

a song with no end

when Whitman wrote, "I sing the body electric"

I know what he

meant

I know what he

wanted:

to be completely alive every moment

in spite of the inevitable.

we can't cheat death but we can make it

work so hard

that when it does take

us

it will have known a victory just as

perfect as

ours.

--Charles Bukowski

Reading it, I felt fortified and connected in a way I haven't experienced in a long time due to the fear, anxiety, overwhelm and confusion that has come along with the political use and misuse of all things Covid.

Then, when I turned the page to another, entitled, "Under Ideal Conditions" by Al Zolynas, I was further reminded of the power and freedom I still hold to stand in an empty and desolate place and step forward and back on my own volition, into my own awareness of the presence, reality, and mystery of light in darkness. 

 I'm grateful to have found both poems waiting to reinforce the power of choice, song, light, community, perseverance, commitment, focus, and the value of finding a place to stand.

Under Ideal Conditions

say in the flattest part of North Dakota

on a starless moonless night

no breath of wind

a man could light a candle

then walk away

every now and then

he could turn and see

the candle burning

seventeen miles later

provided conditions remained ideal

he could still see the flame

somewhere between the seventeenth and eighteenth mile

he would lose the light

if he were walking backwards

he would know the exact moment

when he lost the flame

he could step forward and find it again

back and forth

dark to light light to dark

what's the place where the light disappears?

where the light reappears?

don't tell me about photons

and eyeballs

reflection and refraction

don't tell me about one hundred and eighty-six thousand

miles per second and the theory of relativity

all I know is that place

where the light appears and disappears

that's the place where we live.

My prayer and hope:  May I live in that place and not lose sight of light or levity in the face of darkness and gravity.