Dude made me cry, sitting alone here in the dark at 4:30 AM. Sometimes I think he wrote what he really felt and knew. Who knew?
I meant to write about what makes a person resistant to mass psychosis. Its like one of those two kinds of people things.
Why are some people so compliant? Why are some people so damn independent mentally?
I imagine there are sliding scales of this phenom also. In my case I guess I have to blame my old man, the one who was always talking. He never took anything on face value. Always analyzing. Just like on Maggie's farm he lectured me and the other kids on "man and God and law". But I was the oldest so I got the brunt of the lectures. It was painful at the time, but I learned to debate with myself about what I saw.
Only using myself because I'm the case I know best, since I'm stuck with myself, I find that I still have to be very careful about data and opinion coming at me. Its so slick.
Matthew 24:24
For there shall arise false christs and false prophets and shall show great signs and wonders, insomuch that, if it were possible, they shall deceive the very elect.
Some of you have probably already seen it. I was jumping up and down in my chair and telling the Bird its like hearing myself in someone else's mouth.
He has a book also.
He describes how the phenomenon happens, and why. He claims that it is rooted in isolation and loneliness, where people have no connection to life. I would add the issue of boredom. I don't think people realize how monumentally bored they really are.
Its a long interview and you won't be bored! One thing I remember is his discussion of how the physical reality of a thing is just the beginning. There is more beyond that. He spoke of how learning to do anything well is an example of this process. You can learn the mechanics and do it well, but after a while it mysteriously begins to be something more. I like to use Mark Knopfler as an example. His guitars are part of his body and he speaks through them. Mysterious mysteries!
There is also discussion of all the scientists, who when they got to the bottom of what their area of study was, found that there was something more beyond what can be known rationally. ie God.
He says the way to disrupt this process in society of becoming a thoughtless Borg, is to not go underground. Keep speaking against it. Not hysterically. Calm and reasonable.
He says it won't necessarily change the group's mind, of course, but that it works to stop the final stage where the Borg want to destroy anyone who is not of the group...ie, death camps etc.
Anyhow, highly recommended. Thanks to my friend of yore, BZ, for the alert to this important interview. It could be life saving.
Once, in a land not right around the corner, which might have been Russia, there was a teeny tiny village. There were maybe twenty houses, if you could call them houses, in all.
The people were very poor, subsisting mostly on pickled cabbages, beet soup, and an awful lot of bread. Sometimes they didn't even have that.
One day, out of the blue as it were, the visitations began. A mysterious beast of no particular species began appearing before dawn carrying what might be described as saddle bags filled with all the necessaries of a Russian village life of ease. Tea, sugar, sausages, cakes and candies, and even some tobacco! Always there were small gifts of toys for any child in the hut visited that day. These gifts included a strange pink candy amenable to blowing bubbles.
The people began to argue among themselves about the nature of the beast. Some said it must be a huge wolf....others said it was a horse or a mule. The school teacher thought it was some sort of flying lizard thing. But she always had to tell the best stories.
Cool heads in the group decided they had better devise a method of thanking the mysterious beast and decided to vote on what type of animal it was. 13 votes decided the matter. It was most likely a giant wolf. They set to writing a declaration of thanks beginning "Oh Wolf...."
As you can probably guess, that was the last of the Ineffable Beast, for it is not wise to mess with the Ineffable or the too delicate to define. I don't know if he was a wolf, a horse, a mule or a very large chicken. Its quite beyond me.
All through school and in all of popular culture it has been blandly assumed that there are too many people. We were led to believe that this number was ballooning catastrophically and that this was a BAD THING.
Childbirth was accepted grudgingly. People will do it, but its best not to.
Its like our existence is a kind of original sin to the omnipresent voice of the power of the air. (ahem) We are a net drain on the universe, and should really not exist at all.
💕👶👶👶💕
This rings a bell for me. It has the stench of sulphur. Who do we know who cannot create? Who do we know who is the biggest complainer that ever was? Who burns with anxious jealousy? Who wants to subvert that which the Almighty has made and Who he has begotten?
No wonder this spirit wishes to destroy womanhood. Eternal souls enter the world through us. So haha goat. Loser.
Who woulda thunk it? I always thought this activity was for ditzes and little league baseballers. But a bit of research revealed that chewing bubble gum and blowing bubbles actually improves cognitive function.
It's called “mastication-induced arousal,” and gives those lazy brain cells something to do, so they are ready to spring into action.
Not only that, but it turns out chewing gum is also a great stress reliever.
So put down the booze and the smokes and grab yourself some gum. Maybe blowing bubbles instead of blowing up the planet is a good idea!
And please, do not throw your chewed gum on the ground! Put it where it belongs... under the school desk!
The other day I asked myself the question, in aid of writing something here, what is the scariest thing that ever happened to me. Upon reflection, I couldn't come up with much.
I thought of "funny" answers. Like, I was raised by my father, nothing has ever scared me like he did when I was a child. That's funny, not really funny. After my dad, muggers on the street don't do it. They only want to steal and perhaps kill. haha
I thought of giving birth four times. That's a lonely thing. People are trying to help, but its just you and God on that table really. But I expected to survive. Didn't really doubt it.
These days I have serious concern for the children I brought into the world and likewise, their children. But through hard reasoning, I finally arrived at the place where I understand that they are God's kids, they are just people in the same boat with the rest of humanity. It really can't be any other way.
Now'days, the true horror is our whole slagheap of a political/governmental system, and in fact, that of the rest of the world also. This really is upsetting my little jolly bubble blowing attitude. Not very nice at all.
💀💓💀💓
What I wondered is if anyone here today has any stories to tell about the scariest thing, if they felt like telling it.
The song up there is not meant to be scary, just emotionally weighted! lol!
Long ago, when this old world seemed new to me, oh about 1950, my very young father and mother packed my sister and myself into the Model A Ford, and they left southern Idaho for the Seattle area and better chances in life than farming with his dad.
BTW, this vehicle is what I learned to drive in. Dad later made it into a tractor. He just did stuff like that.
But still, home is home and grandparents are grandparents. Both sets lived in the same small Idaho town about a mile apart.
So it was our family's custom to go back to the farm for the summer. This meant a trip to the King Street Station in downtown Seattle to get on a Union Pacific train.
Many times we caught the train to Portland OR there. At the end of that ride was the old Union station in Portland OR.
All very impressive to small children. I mostly remember being awed by the steam and heat coming out from under the engines, the noise and all.
I also remember the kind and dignified Pullman Porters. They were the first Black people I remember.
I remember old downtown Portland as a darkish place for some reason, and a park that was set aside for women and children only. I have no idea how to find an image of it. Probably long gone. I remember a gated ornate fence perhaps.
In the very early 50s the Union Pacific train going east from Portland was called the Portland Rose. https://streamlinermemories.info/?p=3645
It seems like it was always early morning, looking out the windows, trying to guess when we would be getting there. Seeing the unfamiliar pass rapidly by. For some reason, we children were always looking for snow. lol The whole experience was a bit fantastical.
The station where we met my grandparents was in Gooding, ID, being the closest station to their place. http://sfcompanion.blogspot.com/2019/11/former-toponis-railway-station-fully.html
It didn't look much different by the time I got there. No horses though.
The following photo is of my mother, her father and myself and my younger sister shot facing across the street from the station.
I begin to feel like An Historical Character, for I did taste and breathe some trailing bits of the old American West in its dreamlike and sleepy state. Trains were a big item in the development of this country. We all loved those train trips.
And just because it seems to me the archetypal western song:
.jpeg)
.jpg)
%20(1).jpg)
.jpg)
