The Bill of Obligations

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The Constitution of the United States of America is a foundational document.The Constitution outlines a form of government and processes to ensure democracy. At the same time that the Constitution was ratified, so too were ten important Amendments collectively referred to as “The Bill of Rights.” The founders rightly thought that outlining the structures and processes of government was not enough to ensure democracy. It was also necessary, as they foresaw, to outline rights of the people that could not be abridged by those governmental structures and processes. They are often referred to as “unalienable rights.” 

To comprehend what the Constitution says and how it came to be, it’s useful to outline just a little of what the founders were reacting to and who they were. They were men. For the most part, they were financially successful men and relatively well-educated. They were “white” men. They were overwhelmingly of European descent. They were mainly English speaking. They had successfully executed a War of Independence against England. They were not a homogenous group, but compared with the world as a whole or the current population of the United States, it was a very homogeneous  group of people. They were still quite aware of the excesses of monarchies and the horrors of tyranny. That background is important to understanding why they wanted to make sure that people’s rights were protected from government over-reach. 

Their homogeneity as relatively rich, well-educated, white men meant that the envisioned “government” would be for their own kind. Blacks had no rights. Children had no rights. Women had no rights. The other species on the planet had no rights. When they talked about rights, they were talking about their rights. 

Their background and particularly, the homogeneity of their background, also meant that they presumed some degree of honor and rationality existed in the whole cohort. They didn’t agree with each other about everything. Far from it. There were many debates and compromises baked into the Constitution. 

I cannot read the minds of the founders, but I imagine that because of their recent experience with tyrants, they were quite aware of the necessity of protecting rights. It’s not clear to me that they thought much about the need to codify obligations. They had been brought up to assume obligations and so had the other founders they worked with. It’s not surprising that they did not to bother to enumerate obligations.  These were the days when a young woman or man of nobility would forgo someone they truly loved in order to fulfill family obligations. If men thought their “honor” had been besmirched they would duel to the death over it. Honor really mattered. I think that’s part of why they didn’t feel it necessary to even think about a “Bill of Obligations.”

I would like to engage in a little thought experiment based on the premise that now, centuries later, we do need to think carefully about obligations. You have the right to free speech. You do not have the right to go into a crowded theater and scream “FIRE!” In order to cause a panic and kill people. This didn’t occur to the founders because, none of them would have ever done such a thing; at least, because of honor. It isn’t that rich white men were morally or ethically superior to a multi-cultural society. Far from it. But it is another aspect of the historical reason, I think, why they might never have bothered to enumerate such obligations.

To start, let’s look at the very First Amendment to the Constitution. I hope everyone will have the patience to wade through this lengthy document.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.



 Oh, look. It’s really not that long after all. 

The government should not be in the business of establishing a religion.

The government should not restrict people from practicing their religion.

The government should not abridge freedom of speech.

The government should not abridge the freedom of the press.

The government should not abridge the freedom to peacefully assemble.

The government should not abridge the freedom of people to petition the government for a redress of grievances. 

Despite the simplicity of the concept, there have been various arguments, often in courts, about what these rights “really” mean. It is not legal to scream fire it a crowded theater. That seems reasonable. It is legal to use your wealth to ensure that your favorite candidate wins because the courts have recently held that spending money to buy politicians is just “freedom of speech.” Huh? 

But I don’t want to argue about how to interpret “The Right of Free Speech.” Rather, I want to examine what might be reasonable and commensurate clauses in “The Obligations of Free Speech.” 

Here are some candidates. 

People have an obligation to speak the truth. 

People have an obligation to listen respectfully. 

People have an obligation to consider that their own opinion is not the only one that matters.

People have an obligation to follow agreed upon rules of conduct for the speech they are engaged in. 

One major benefit of the right to free speech is that ideas can be discussed and debated, and people working together can come up with more intelligent decisions that those of any single individual. In order for that to work, we need to hear many ideas, not just one. The obligations of free speech are also necessary for that process to work in achieving its goals. If we hear many ideas but many people lie, or refuse to listen to each other, or are disrespectful or break the rules of debate, we will not have intelligent decisions. 

Consider an analogy to tennis, although you could generate one for any sport; indeed, for nearly any human endeavor, but let’s stick to tennis. In tennis, you have the right to hit whatever shot you want. You can hit it hard or soft, or anywhere in between. You can hit it flat or put a lot of topspin on the ball or slice it or put sidespin on. You can drive the ball or hit a lob or a drop shot. You can hit it down the line or cross-court. 

Over the years, people have tried all sorts of various strategies and tactics for tennis. People use different grips. Some hit a two-handed backhand and some hit a one-handed backhand. A few even hit with two hands on both forehand and backhand. People try different things out and play improves, not only for the individual, but for the sport. So it is in any sport. Performance improves over time because people try out different things and what works better tends to be repeated and what does not work tends to fade away. But none of that would happen unless all the players also follow the rules. Their right to hit the kind of shot that suits them works hand in hand with their obligation to follow the rules. If players did not fulfill their obligations to play by the rules, and instead began simply insisting that they had won every point, tennis as a whole would not improve nor would the individual players improve. Most would eventually quit and among those who were left “playing tennis,” without rules or obligations, it would soon degenerate into a fist fight, or, more likely, I suppose, it would escalate from shouting to shooting. 

It’s the same for every human endeavor involving more than one person. You not only have some freedom of action vis a vis the other(s); you also have obligations. Just because you feel like assaulting someone on the street and taking their money, doesn’t mean you can do it. People who assault people are meant to end up in jail. Most eventually do. 

A society with a high degree of freedom and no sense of obligations is like buying a Lambroghini and paying extra not to have any brakes. It isn’t just human institutions and inventions that have opposing systems in balance. Look at life itself. Inhibition/excitation; inhale/exhale; sympathetic nervous system/para-sympathetic nervous system; biceps/triceps; adductors/abductors; dilation/contraction; heartbeats; sleep cycles; ATP/ADP Cycle. 

By the way, a society that was all obligations and no freedom would be like buying a Lambroghini and paying extra not to have a steering wheel or gas pedal; having the tires replaced by railroad wheels; you get to ride your Lambroghini down the track and back up again. That’s it. Well, that sucks! Yes. It literally sucks most of the fun out of life! It makes your life more predictable, but that’s not a good tradeoff; at least, not to me. 

Compared with most people, I think I prefer a lot of freedom. That doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in obligation, however, or that my freedom is subject to limits when it infringes on the freedom of others. I strongly prefer freedom of speech. I’m very happy for the First Amendment. But I would not go into a crowded theater and scream “Fire!” Nor should you. 

How about someone using Big Data analytics on your on-line behavior being used to manipulate you into buying stuff from the company who’s paying for you data. Here’s the deal. You think you are communicating on GiantSocialMediumCompany with your friends. The GiantSocialMediumCompany hardly seems as though it’s even there.


“Sure, it pops up some annoying ad about Kepsi or Poke every so often, but it easy enough to scroll past it. Except, you know that most recent Kepsi ad was kind a cute. Anyway, of course, I didn’t click on it.” 

Uh-huh. But you see, the fact that you even slowed down as you scrolled down past the Kepsi ad, is interesting data to Kepsi (and Poke too for that matter). They aren’t the only two parties who will be interested in your data. Who else might benefit? Lots of people. From many examples of your on-line behavior over time, they can determine which “wedge issue” you are most likely to emotionally react to. They likely have a rough categorization of the type of approach you’d pay most attention to: visual, clever text, GIF, video, website, complex/simple, personal/impersonal, etc. Then, you can be targeted with arguments that are calculated — not to open your mind or to help you see the other side. No. These are arguments designed to move you a little further away from your neighbors and friends; anyone who has even a slightly different opinion about a topic you care about. That’s the purpose. Not to educate. To divide. And it’s working. 

And, that, to me, is a an absolutely egregious breach of what should be the First Article in the Bill of Obligations. 

What do you think? 


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The Mammoth and the Mouse

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Mammoths and Sabre Toothed Tigers, Knebworth, Hertfordshire by Christine Matthews is licensed under CC-BY-SA 2.0

Once upon a time, a great wooly Mammoth happily grazed on green and golden grass. He had satiated his hunger early that morning, but he continued to graze all afternoon. After all, he reasoned, who knows whether the grass will be here tomorrow?

The Mammoth, who had been eating tons of grass from a seemingly endless field of grassy plains, grew bored. The Mammoth, of course, was rather mammoth. He liked the grass, but eating tons of it became ever more boring for the mammoth Mammoth, so his mind wandered and he noticed that a small Mouse was chewing on a grain of grass seed. 

“Hey there!!” The Mammoth bellowed. “What are you doing eating my grass!? Leave that alone! All this grass is mine!” 

The mouse scampered away and the Mammoth resumed eating tons of grass. But it was still just as boring as ever using his trunk to shovel mouthful after mouthful of grass. He decided he would go looking for the Mouse. He eventually found Mouse and the Mouse was again eating a teeny grass seed.

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“Hey there!!!” The mighty Mammoth bellowed. “I told you not to eat grass!! It’s all mine!” 

The Mammoth noticed that other animals were laughing. Hyena came over to Mammoth and said, “You are a mammoth Mammoth! Why are you bothering a tiny mouse?”

The Mammoth waved his trunk menacingly and answered, “Indeed! What business is it of yours? Anyway, as you can see, the Mouse is hoping to gain enough weight and strength so that he can come and eat me!” 

Now, other animals had come to observe the commotion. 

A large Elk said, “That’s ridiculous! Mice don’t eat Mammoths!” 

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Mammoth smirked and said, “I tell you he wants to eat me! He wants to kill me! I am going to crush this mouse and make life safe for myself, my family, and for all of us.” 

The Hyena laughed. The Elk rolled his giant eyes. Even the Yaks began to yuck it up. 

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Mammoth however began raising up his giant feet and smashing them down to squash the Mouse. But each time, the mouse would scamper away just in time. The Mammoth grew angrier and angrier still because he was having such a hard time smashing the Mouse. He smashed his giant foot down on a sharp stone so hard that it caused his foot to bleed. 

The Mammoth bellowed in pain and anger. “Now look! See?! That Mouse is making me bleed! I told you he was trying to kill me and eat me!” 

This only made the Hyenas laugh harder. The Elk shook his head in disbelief. The Crows cawed and chuckled. The Lion roared with laughter at the misguided Mammoth. 

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This only made the Mammoth even angrier and he smashed his giant feet down trying to crush the Mouse. Most of the time, his giant feet came down in the dirt or the grass, but, as luck would have it, he also smashed another foot down onto a sharp rock and now another of his feet began to bleed. “Look! See!? The Mouse is trying to kill me! Laugh if you like, but after I protect myself by killing the Mouse, I’m going to protect myself more by killing everyone who laughs at me! I’ll show you all!”

—————

It has been estimated that there are about 40 billion mice on earth right now. 

There are zero wooly Mammoths.



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The Moral of the Story? 

Don’t be a greedy A-Hole. 

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You think your backpack is plenty large enough.

Sure you do. 

Just like I did. 

Of course it seems large enough when you think you’re headed to grandpa’s farm for the weekend. That’s what I was doing when the bombing started. Mom & Dad were going to drive me there after work. But they never made it home. Not yet.

The backpack seems large enough until you find yourself rushing all around the house, like I did, trying to decide what to stuff in it to get away from the bombs. Water? Food? Our pet cat, Lucy? Weapons? Extra clothes? Some of each? Radio? Batteries? Chargers? Electricity. Phone? The kitchen knives, unsheathed?  

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Meanwhile … the noise never stops. No word from folks. Think you’ll get used to the explosions and the inhuman screams of pain. But you don’t. Not really. You think you’ll find a place that’s better than the last place you were. But you don’t. 

No, you won’t get used to it. At least, I never did. You won’t find a better place, either. At, least I never did. 

Just death everywhere Stench. And noise which I never did get used to. 

The “sharpness” in the explosions evaporated though. I studied enough bio to know what happened. I lost some hair cells is all. They still make a huge THWOMP in my sternum and they still hurt my ears. Oh, yes. The nearby explosions are plenty loud. They are just dull. 

Like everything else now, I guess.

I don’t hear birds any more. Maybe there are a few left. What’s that thing about canaries and coal mines? Hard to believe the air here used to be clear enough to breathe without choking. It never used to stink thisbad either. Maybe the stench killed the robins and jays. 

Maybe the birds all flew away first. Smart. They have their own built in method of transportation. Anyway, whether the birds are all dead or all flown away, I don’t know. I just know I don’t hear them. Anyway, why would they be singing? I like to think they flew away. All I know for sure is that they’re gone.

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Except for the crows*.

I remember in the “before times” being grossed out at the way the crows picked the meat off the bones of road kill. I remember wondering: “Do they get sick from rotting meat ? Or, do they just never realize that rotting meat makes them sick? Or do they do know it makes them sick but they’re so damned hungry, that they don’t care.” 

I was sure, back then, that I’d never be that hungry.

What did I know? 

Anyway, I thought the crows were gross, all right. But they were brave! They’d swoop out to their sickening feast of squashed squirrel or raccoon or unlucky dog and peck away at the rotting carcass while a car or truck would zoom right at them! Only at the last second, they would angrily flit out of the way. I never saw one get hit. 

I guess I kind of wanted one of them to get hit. It would serve them right for being so gross! 

“For being so gross.” 

As best I can understand it, that’s how all this started. Some folks were being gross. I guess I never really saw them being gross. My parents thought it was a good idea to kill all the gross people but others didn’t agree. I don’t know what the grossness even was. My folks — did I mention I haven’t seen them since all this started? — any way, my folks never explained it. 

That was back in what I call the “before times” when we could just drive to the grocery and get fresh vegetables and fruits, butter, cheese, chips, cookies, bread. Olives. I especially liked olives. My folks thought that it was weird for an eight year old to love olives so much. In fact, they called it “gross.” 

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They were joking. I think they were joking. They may have been joking. I kind of miss them. I don’t think they thought I was gross back then. Lots of people eat olives. I don’t think I started the war. Olives?

I don’t know. I don’t think I was gross enough to deserve to die. Like I said, I’m not sure what the “grossness” was all about — not the grossness that they were killing each other about. 

No-one should eat road kill. Or bomb kill. 

And no-one does. 

Except for the crows.

And me.

*Author’s Note: At the exact moment I wrote the line “Except for the crows” (the first time), the crows outside cawed loudly! Now, all I hear are the wind chimes.

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Karmic Architecture II

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All for one; and none for most 

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What is cancer? 

A piece of life that has forgotten its heritage. 

Cancer thinks it sprung to life all on its own. 

Cancer has not only “forgotten the face of its fathers” (as Stephen King’s gunslinger says).

Cancer has forgotten the fact that it even had fathers and mothers. 

Cancer has forgotten the fact that its life is made easier, every day because of those who went before.

Cancer has forgotten that every little victory it feels today comes about because of millions of choices and struggles of other lives that went before.

Cancer doesn’t care.

Cancer acts as though it is the only life form in the universe that really “counts.” 

Throughout history, there have been many individuals who act as cancer.

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A few of them have gotten into positions of power and used that power to blackmail, strong-arm, and manipulate others into joining the cancer. Their “relationships” are based on lies and power. 

Now, we live in an atomic era when cancerous people in power use that power to restrict the ability of their own people to know the truth. 

We live in an atomic era when cancerous people in power threaten to use atomic weapons unless they get their way. 

Cancerous leadership has never been a good thing in the same way that having a cancerous tumor in your body has never been a good thing. 

Perhaps you think: well, I don’t really care much about politics. 

Okay, then what do you care about? 

Sports? Guess what. Sports are ruined by dick-taters. Outcomes can be predetermined or overturned by the dick-tater. Cheating becomes common. If you don’t “toe the line” politically, you won’t be able to play or you’ll be imprisoned or poisoned. 

Business? Maybe you just care about business. Guess what. Business success is determined by how much “protection” money you pay to the dick-tater. Whoever pays the most will succeed. And, even then you aren’t safe. When business people become too successful under a dick-tater, the dick-tater destroys them and takes their assets. Just like Putrid. 

Your family? Maybe you focus your attention on your family so you don’t really care about whether you live in a dick-tater$hit. You should care. Under dick-taters, the children are taught to spy on and inform the authorities if the parents do something “bad.” Of course, since it’s a dick-tater$hit, what counts as “bad” can change from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time. And your children might or might not understand what you actually said. No matter. Turning in the parents will be a “feather in their cap.” How do you think that will change your family? Husbands and wives are also encouraged to turn on one another. Romantic love and family love — these are antithetical to a totalitarian state. Everyone should love the dick-tater more than anyone in their own family. And, they’ll be asked to prove it. Tell your teen-ager they can’t date a drunkard. Yeah, that might make sense. But understand: if they get upset with your parental guidance, they may turn you in. They’ll make up crap. There’s no burden of proof in the courts that are run by a dick-tater. The dick-tater doesn’t really even care whether you’re guilty or not. Having an innocent person jailed for crimes against the state, especially if they’re turned in by their spouse or kid — that sends a nice strong message to everyone else in the Teliot. 

You may have thought I was going to end that paragraph with the word “country.” I considered that. But it no longer a real country. It is more akin to a toilet. In an ordinary toilet, the waste is flushed. But in a dick-tater$hit, the waste is kept. Whatever is decent, honest, truthful, creative, loving — that is what is flushed away. Instead of a country, you have a reverse toilet — a Teliot. 

Not caring whether or not you and your family and friends live in a dick-tater$hit — that makes exactly as much sense as not caring whether or not you and your family and friends have cancer. 

“I don’t care if I have cancer, because I’m really into sports!” 

Huh? 

If you die, you can’t play or even watch sports. 

“I don’t care if I have cancer, because I really care about my business!” 

Huh? 

If you die, you can’t run a business. 

“I don’t care if I have cancer, because I care about my family!” 

Huh?

Maybe ask your family whether cancer affects them. 

“Well,” you might say, “Democracies are far from perfect too!” 

That’s true. Democracies are not perfect. Sometimes, people are unfair, even in democracies. Sometimes people are cruel. Sometimes people are corrupt. 

Similarly, even if you are cancer free, you might stub your toe, or cut your finger shaving or slicing vegetables. You might sprain your ankle. And a few people will die in auto accidents. Does that mean it doesn’t matter whether or not you have cancer? Cancer, if left untreated, will necessarily be bad. It is the very nature of cancer to be bad. 

Imagine a world in which you don’t just suddenly “get cancer.” You don’t have some weird symptom, go to the doctor, have some tests and find out you “have cancer.” No. Imagine that the only way you get cancer is if you choose to have cancer. You go to the doctor and he offers you a choice: “Would you like cancer? I can give you some, really cheap.”

Imagine a society who decides, “People stub their toes and get sick anyway so let’s all get cancer!” 

Imagine a society who decides: “People aren’t perfect under a democracy so let’s have a dick-tater run the country!” 

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Maybe all you really care about is food. Guess what? Food will be worse under a dick-tater$hit. Regulations about food safety will be rolled back. Your food will be more tainted. 

Maybe all you really care about is art. Guess what? Art will be regulated under a dick-tater. In the Teliot State, the good stuff will all be flushed away, along with the artists who produced those works. The dick-tater will decide which are gets presented and most will be commissioned to glorify the dick-tater. 

In the Teliot State, everything good is tainted. Everything good dies. Everyone decent is suppressed. Even the military is tainted, as the ineptitude of the massive Putrid war effort reveals. The police. The courts. The politicians. The shopkeepers. The business tycoons. The teachers. The parents. The kids. Everyone must allow the cancer of totalitarianism to invade and corrupt their body, their mind, their soul. 

Democracy is hard. I grant that. And often it is messy. But it is a path to life. The Teliot State is a path to death. Don’t believe me. Ask the Russian journalists who have been disappeared. If you can find them. Ask their families. Ask the mothers of the thousands of Russian soldiers who were sent off to die — supposedly to “liberate” Russian speaking Ukrainians. A big fat lie, of course. Everything is based on lies in a Teliot State.



Don’t believe me. Ask the Russian athletes who are banned from international competitions.

Don’t believe me. Ask the families of the Russian oligarchs who were murdered in the last few days. Oh, wait you can’t, because they were killed too.

Don’t believe me. Ask the Ukrainians how much they’re enjoying their “liberation” so far. Ask the raped women. Ask the mutilated children. Ask the dead. Ask the tortured. 

I’ve known many people who have had cancer. The treatments are painful and dangerous. But they’re still generally better than letting cancer take over. Because once cancer starts, it wants to take over everything. Cancer finds it distracting from its past failures so it keeps wanting to try to conquer new parts of the body. Same with Putrid. 

Like all dick-taters, Putrid delivers far less than he promises. Of course he does. The Teliot State squelches incentives, creativity, innovation, truth, science, medicine, and life itself. To some degree Putrid and his ilk, tell lies about how well they’re doing, but the truth cannot be totally hidden from the people. So, Putrid, like all dick-taters is terrified of having the people find out just what a horrendously bad job he’s doing. That’s why he lies to the public and makes sure everyone else tells the same lies. If people don’t realize what a horrible job he’s doing, maybe an angry mob won’t tear him to shreds. 

What better way to distract from your own failures than blame someone else? 

So Putrid blames the west, NATO, the EU, the UN, Ukrainians, oligarchs who don’t spent enough time kissing his a$$, military commanders — in short, everyone but himself. 

Remember the Berlin Wall? That was not erected by the West Germans to prevent poor people from East Berlin coming in and taking stuff. That was put in place by the Russian dick-taters to keep East Berliners from finding out just how bad off they were under the communist totalitarianism than were their brothers and sisters and cousins living in a democracy right next door! People were killed trying to get into West Berlin. 

Every day, all around the world, people are trying to escape the cancer of the Teliot State. They risk their lives to do that. Why do you suppose they would do that? Because they have seen first hand what a stench-filled place a Teliot State becomes. The criminals run the Teliot State. 

There may be honor among some thieves, but not among the sort of thieves who aspire to being dick-taters. They literally kill other members of their own families just so they can feel more assured none of them will try to replace them.That happened fairly recently in Saudi Arabia and in N. Korea. Putrid is now killing his oligarch supporters to strike even more fear into his fellow Russians. “See? You think I won’t kill you if you don’t support me? This long-time ally and friend had the nerve to ask me whether I should stop this war. The nerve! So, I killed him and his family.” 

Maybe Putrid felt a teeny surge of heroism when the gave the order to kill his allies for gently questioning his wisdom, but mainly he did it to make sure every Russian understood the message: “I’ll kill anyone for anything so you do what I say or you’ll be next.”

As the Wicked Witch of the West once famously observed, “These things must be done delicately. “ So, Putrid made these murders look a little bit like suicide, but they were carried off with the same MO at almost the same time so that everyone in the country would get the message that these were killings ordered by the Teliot Tyrant but that everyone was supposed to act as though they were suicides.

The Russian people are in a tough spot. Ideally, they would rise up as one and get rid of the maniac; rid themselves of cancer. Ideally. But it’s a lot to ask. It’s one thing to go to a surgeon to put you under anesthetic and have them remove a cancerous growth. It’s quite another to perform the surgery yourself on your own body! Tom Hanks, in Castaway damn near killed himself taking out a bad tooth. It took a lot of nerve. And it will take more to take out a cancerous growth. But what choice is there? If you don’t kill the cancer, the cancer will kill you.

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Meanwhile, we still have a choice. Do we want to put a monstrous cancer in charge of our country? And, that will not just mean that they are put in charge of government. Please understand, once in charge of government, they work to be in charge of everything up to and including your sex life. Before you decide that’s a good idea because everybody should have sex just the way you like it, you’d better understand that a dick-tater could just as easily decide and implement a policy that everyone should be trans or that everyone should be gay. At first, of course, a dick-tater$hip will implement policies that are supported by either a majority or at least supported by a violent minority. They need some support to gain absolute power. But not to keep it. Once they control the police, the courts, the army, they don’t need to institute policies that are popular any longer. They can institute any policy that benefits them. Any. Policy. Including your worst nightmare. It doesn’t matter what they say now. It doesn’t matter what they “really” believe. It doesn’t matter how many people agree with a position. Once they have absolute power, they will make it stick. They will accompany an unpopular policy with a host of lies to make it more palatable. These lies will not be debunked by the “free press” because there won’t be any. And if you yourself do not repeat these lies, you are subject to arrest — or worse. 

Given any absurdity, given any cruel and stupid policy, I can write a paragraph of lies “explaining” why we’re doing this. Of course, it will typically be pretty transparent, but so what? It doesn’t have to stand up to debate. It doesn’t have to stand up to an election. It doesn’t have to stand up to the scrutiny of a free press. Everyone will be required to recite said paragraph. Everyone in such a society knows in their hearts that the policy is bad. And everyone knows in their hearts that they themselves are being evil by perpetrating it. 

Can you image how that feels inside? To know that you are doing what you yourself know to be wrong, and yet, you feel compelled to do that evil every single day. On top of that, you’re required to encourage others to do that evil and to lie about it. It’s a whole evil and elaborate charade and every participant dies inside. But it makes the dick-tater feel good. The dick-tater is the only beneficiary.

In Russia right now, there are about 150,000,000 losers and one “winner.” Ultimately, the only person who benefits is Putrid. I have to qualify “ultimately” because of course, in the short run, some see a short term benefit of some kind (not be put in prison, receive bribe, steal neighbor’s wife, get his son a better grade) but at the same time, no matter how much people try to rationalize it, they know they are doing wrong. 

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In the USA, right now, we still have a democracy. But it’s hanging by a thread. There is nothing “conservative” about destroying democracy & instituting a dick-tater$hit. This is not a question of conservative versus liberal or left versus right. We can have those debates in a democracy because they are meaningful. Debates are shows in a dick-tater$hit. They are not meaningful. It doesn’t really matter to the dick-tater what philosophy he purports to adopt. One dick-tater might call themselves a “Communist” and the next one might call themselves a “Nazi” and the next might call themselves “Bicameral” and the next “Hufflepuff” — The dick-tater doesn’t believe any of those philosophies. Their “philosophy” is that the only thing that matters is them and whatever they feel like should determine what everyone does. And, if he goes absolutely insane and insists everyone in the country should all go eat poison ivy three times a day, most will pretend they did it and some will actually go do it. And on TV, there will be testimonials from people who ate poison ivy and it cured their gout or their heart disease or their “Ravenclaw” tendencies. People who die from eating poison ivy will not be counted in the official total as having died from poison ivy. It will be listed perhaps as “political putrefaction” but the world will find out fairly quickly. 

Eventually, so will the Russian people. But by that time, something else cancerous happens first. People who survived the purges of Stalin, by definition, are more pro-Stalin and acted to please him more than the millions who were put to a fast or slow death. And the pro-Stalin survivors acted evilly for decades under him. One way to assuage your guilt about doing evil for a long time is to convince yourself that it isn’t really evil. The dick-taters like Stalin will give you a reason that you can tell yourself. The dick-tater knows it’s a lie; you know it’s a lie; everyone outside of Russia who thinks about it knows it’s a lie. But it makes you feel a little better. You start by habitually doing evil. Then you begin to habitually feel bad. Then, you find that believing the lies of the dick-tater makes you feel a little better. And now you have told yourself the lie so long that you actually come to believe it. That, in turn, means there is a lot of truth that you cannot listen to. You not only repeat Russian propaganda, you also self-censor because you don’t want to hear the voices of Western journalists, etc.; they will only make you question that which you do not want to question. 

Question yourself now. Before it’s too late. Too late for you. Too late for the world. 

—————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Absolute is not just a Vodka

Dick-Taters

Clarence not Darrow

Cancer always loses in the end

Addictions 

You Bet Your Life

Checks and Balances 

What about the butter dish?

Happy talk lies

My Cousin Bobby 

The stopping rule

The update problem

Con-Con’s Special Friend

Sonnet of Vlademort

Siren Song

Imagine all the people

Voter suppression is life suppression

Choose your weapons

Poppa goes the weasel

Their dead shark eyes

The dance of billions

The Scratching Post

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In the clawing of the cat, 

In her scratch upon the post, 

In the cawing of the crow,

In the yearning yellow glow. 

I find peace in all of that.

For all of that’s my friendly host.



In the light upon the lake,
In the dawn upon the hill,

In the waves upon the sea.
I see at once what I will be.

It’s make, remake, again to make.
It’s all a spinning spinal thrill.

It’s all okay, this hour on earth.

It’s all about the giving part. 

It’s Love that fosters Life, you see. 

And Love is what Life needs to be.  

To share a dance, a chuckle, mirth:

That is Life and That is Art.  

Author Page on Amazon

Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

The Myth of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Life is a Dance

Listen – You can hear the echoes of your actions

Dick-Taters

The Siren Song

Choose your Weapons!

Choose Your Weapons!

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“Choose your weapons.” 

An expression that perhaps goes back to the Roman Coliseum or “gentlemanly” dueling. What is a weapon? What can it mean to say, “The pen is mightier than the sword.”? 

A few years ago, I decided to try a little experiment. I knew that studies showed that owning a handgun did not, in general, make you safer. Actually, it was the reverse. Nonetheless, I thought perhaps I would feel safer. For one week, I imagined that my cellphone was a lethal weapon. I could pull it out and cause someone else horrendous pain or to end their life or both. As you might imagine, I did not feel more secure or safer. I felt more paranoid about others but also afraid I might accidentally shoot someone. 

In the middle of Monday night, one of our cats turned over some cat bowls and made a huge ruckus. I immediately yelled bloody murder and jumped out of bed. I would not want to have a gun if I’m awakened like that. My body is primed for action and my mind is not yet anywhere to be found. I literally have no idea as to what’s going on. It only last a few moments. But those few moments are enough time to grab a gun and shoot someone. And that someone is far more likely to be someone in your family than a home invader. Maybe they left a book in your room and couldn’t sleep so they came into your room to retrieve it. I don’t really think an error like that is self-forgivable. Your mood would be altered much to the negative for the rest of your life. The only alternative would be to shut off your feelings so completely that you literally became a heartless monster. 

What occurred to me tonight taking pictures of flowers, as one is wont to do, is making a much better use of the iPhone than a gun for home protection is. For one thing, if you own a gun for home protection, you hopefully rarely use it. I use the iPhone nearly every day. The statistics say that you’re actually more likely to die in a home invasion if you have a gun, but let’s say, no, in your particular case, you did manage to shoot two people dead. And, that’s that. 

Except of course, it isn’t done at all. You will find out that those two people you shot didn’t think it was so cool and they may sue you. Or, you may find out things about those families such as how desperate they were to make enough money to feed their kids that they turned to crime. Of course, you don’t want to hear that. They broke the law. And, indeed, in many states, that can be enough to get you off the hook. 

The “hook” of the law, that is. But that’s not the only hooks there are. There’s the social hook. How do you think other people would view you? Maybe some will view you as a hero. But certainly many will not. You might end up being much more annoyed at those who view you as a hero that at those who view you as a villain. Either way, your life will never be the same. Those changes are much more likely to be negative on balance. 

There’s another social hook. How would you feel about someone you care about marrying into a family where someone killed two young lads? Better protected? Or, might you be worried about how that gun might be used in the future, in say, a marital dispute? (Although, of course, suicides and accidental killings should also be on your mind, but those are always a possibility with a gun owner. But in the case of the dual killer, we don’t just know he might kill when provoked; we know he will kill when provoked. Maybe you think a home invasion is sufficient reason for murder. But how about a marital dispute? Surely you’ve noticed that even couples who love each other can come to a point where they are too frustrated to think clearly. I don’t really see how a gun helps a situation like that. 

Lastly, there is your own hook. That may be the sharpest and deepest cutting hook of all. You will second guess your actions on the night of no matter what. That’s just human nature. Some dark, rainy evening, when that re-run is playing for the 13th time, it will hit you that you knew damned well they were unarmed. Another part of your brain screams “Bullshit!” And, so you block it out. Until several weeks later, you discover your cousin’s preferred brand of weed is way stronger than what you’re used to. And, as that snuff movie replays itself yet again, it occurs to you that you not only knew they were unarmed, you thought: “So what? Nobody’s going to put me in prison for it. In this state, they’l think I’m a hero.” Again, you hear the booming voice: “Bullshit!” Only this time, you realize that isn’t your voice at all. That voice is the one he used to destroy you when you told people about his molestations. That’s not you. Or is it? You might, at some point, find yourself depressed by this debate, perhaps riddled with self-doubt. At other times, maybe you’ll come to peace with your actions. But the debate will never stop. 

I take pictures of flowers. They are for anyone to enjoy or ignore. No regrets. That’s my “weapon” of choice. 

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Author Page on Amazon

Family Matters

Stoned Soup

Clarence but not Darrow

Con-Con Man’s Special Friend

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

The Walkabout Diaries: Sunsets

The Walkabout Diaries: Friends

The Walkabout Diaries: Life will find a way

Ghosts of Flowers Past

Mind Walk

A Walk in the Park

Clarence, but certainly not Darrow

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Accused of sex harassing, 

Instead of answering any question. 

Instead he kept just right on passing.

Instead he claimed that wee willy winky 

Was massive as a child’s pinky.

 

Resented, he, the mere suggestion

That he would speak of pubic hairs,

His lies were clear to all to see.

But hey, it’s masculinity!

Since he’s a man who really cares?! 

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He set the stage for Kavalier 

A piece of work who sure likes beer!

Accused of more than one assault 

He turned a logic summersault!

“My calendar is clearly clear!

No single rape is mentioned here!” 

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Emboldened by success so far, 

The right endorsed Handmaiden Joke 

She after all had passed the bar! 

And that’s enough for any bloke!  

Reverse at last the liberal line!

All that matters: Rule Divine! 

The Handmaiden by POWSTER Creative Studio, Florian Pollet, Sylvain Kellaway is licensed under CC-BY-NC-ND 4.0

Clarence Thomas moaned and stated: 

“The Court Supreme is cream of cream!

Political? It’s surely not!

We void elections; that’s our dream! 

I always side with autocrat!

Democracy? It’s so outdated!” 

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Hypocrisy: It’s Finest Day

At last it came with Attitude. 

As wifey Gin would tweet and pray:

“Dictatorship’s so cool because

It guarantees ineptitude.

It thrives on lies; And hate? —  Its claws.”

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Clarence Thomas had a chance

To rectify his sinful stance.

Instead he claimed: “No bias here!

Here’s a list of every sin!

As you can see no wife in here!

That proves I’m right and so I win!” 

Then came spring without a bud.

Then came music that’s only a thud.

Then came press as free as a dodo.

Then came illness far and wide.

A Civil War from our divide. 

Subverting the law is just a no-no. 

Then the water streaked with lead, 

Then the air stunk all of rot.

Then the food came tainted, dead.

Then ugly lies were all we got.

Too late then to give a damn. 

Don’t look up, Sam I am. 

Photo by Lina Kivaka on Pexels.com

This is the way Democracy dies.
This is the way Democracy dies.
This is the way Democracy dies.
Not with a bang but a wimp-out. 

“Houston, we have a problem.”

—————-

Dick-taters

Absolute is not just a vodka

Siren Song

Freedom of Speech is not License to Kill 

Toddlerhood Nation

Freedom 

Where does your loyalty lie? 

Come back to the light

Childlike or Childish? 

Ripples

Me Too!

Guernica

Author Page on Amazon

“…for amber waves of grain…”



 

Unobtainium

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After the sign in and introductions, I started in:

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Last Thursday, right after I had obtained my weekly shipment of unobtainium and resold it for a little bit more than usual, I discovered.… Well, after all, unobtainium is getting to be harder to obtain. They’re charging me more so I pass it along to the hoi poloi. And a little left over for myself. Maybe another 10% profit. Who cares? We’ll just blame some politicians! Not my fault. I’m just trying to make a buck. Or two. Or a trillion. You know what they always say: squeeze ‘em till they hurt. Then, they won’t have the time or energy to figure out who’s really screwing them.

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But hey, forget all that because I was about to say that I was walking the three blocks home, when it began to lightly sprinkle. And, there was this odd smell. And it reminded me of something but I couldn’t remember what — not at first. But then, I knew. It was the smell of fresh air. Just like I had when I was a kid. And that reminded me of playing different codes so that parents wouldn’t know what we were saying. Most kids learned pig-latin, for instance. But there were many variants. We played one where we would just say the opposite of whatever we really meant. 

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And that reminded me about how unobtainium, while hard to obtain, is obviously not actually unobtainable. If it were, no-one would have discovered it and therefore no-one would have ever named it. But someone did name it and why did they name it as they did? Is it just because “hardtoobtainium” is too long? I don’t think so. I think some marketing guy figured out that if it were called “unobtainium” it would sell for a higher price right out of the blocks. I think that’s pretty clear from Marketing 101. But then, I got to thinking. Hey, we get a bump every time the price changes! Yeah. The name “unobtainium” makes our suckers — I mean customers — our suckers always fearful that we’ll run out of unobtainium so we can always kick up the price a bit more whenever the “hard to obtainium” becomes “harder to obtainium” but always remember it’s called “unobtainium.”

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But then, I had an even more troubling thought. What if almost all the things we were taught to try to attain because they’re hard to obtain or even unobtainable — what if the things that are obtainable are equally valuable? What if some of the obtainable things are even more valuable than the unobtainable things? What if the whole reason that those things are designated as very difficult to obtain is that they aren’t worth attaining if they mean giving up all the things that are easier to obtain. I mean, I’m rich so what else matters, right? So then I’m thinking why am I even having this conversation with myself. I need people to think unobtainium is unobtainium. That’s part of what makes me rich! So that’s why I called you. So fix me from this crazy thinking. Being rich enough is okay? Give me a break. That’s plain disgusting. You gotta fix me.

The “All Me” Bee

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Dance of Billions

Author Page on Amazon

Their Dead Shark Eyes

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Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

Don’t fall for shark-eyed demagogues. 

They feign to care; they steal our share.

The name of game is always same. 

Divide to rule; play fear and hate. 

Gerrymandering allows politicians to stay in power no matter how bad a job they do for *all* their constituents; those who voted for him/her or those who didn’t. All suffer from divide & conquer.

Pretend to care; they steal our share.

Pretend to be a thing they’re not. 

Divide to rule play fear and hate.

Addict your mind to happy lies. 

Pretend to be a thing they’re not;

Eventually steal all you’ve got. 

Addict your mind to happy lies.

They make believe and then devise; 

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Eventually steal all you’ve got. 

You need not be a polyglot.

They make believe and then divide;

Hold out for deals that aren’t unfair.

You need not be a polyglot,

But take a look around this earth.

Hold out for deals that aren’t unfair. 

Regardless of your wealth or birth. 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Please take a look around this earth. 

Don’t fall for shark-eyed demagogues. 

Regardless of your wealth or birth, 

Don’t fall for shark-eyed demagogues. 

Photo by BROTE studio on Pexels.com

—————-

Dick-Taters

Absolute is not just a vodka

Drumbeat of Feet

Essays on America: The Game

Vlademort Sonnet

Poker Chip

The Ailing King of Agitate

Poppa goes the Weasel 

All for One and None for Most

Siren Song

Happy Talk Lies

The Stopping Rule

The Update Problem 

Where does your loyalty lie? 

My cousin Bobby

Con-Con Man’s Special Friend

The Orange Man

The Three Blind Mice

Stoned Soup

The Power of the Unbrella 

P is for Politics

A Little is not a lot

Trickle Down Your Spine

Freedom

A little is not a lot

At least he’s our monster

The Dance of Billions

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We dance our green, 

We dance our blue, 

We dance our gold, 

Our dance is true and big and bold.

Our dance is seen

Unseen, unsold, 

It grows its widening arc. 

All around the love-filled globe.

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Some prefer the sun

And some prefer the strobe.

And some prefer the dark.

It’s all a part of rainbow’s arc. 

The music is the blossoms and the blooms.

The joy jumps in arching rooms

Beneath the sky on windswept plains;

Beneath the pour of cleansing rains. 

Jungle deeps and bright bazaars, 

Piano, flute, and gold guitars. 

Photo by Prime Cinematics on Pexels.com

The people’s joy won’t be contained;

Creativity is not constrained. 

Trust and love and gratitude 

Fill skies once filled with smoke and choke and attitude. 

Elders, children, even dogs and cats, 

Begin to join us in our song. 

Begin to join our growing throng. 

A thousand soon becomes a million strong. 

A million grows to billions and erelong, 

We garden back the planet once we trashed. 

We weave together what we smashed.

The steps are small;

But dance is all; 

Soon, everyone is standing tall.

As all are dancing, all for all. 

We can do this, you and me.

We and all humanity.

Wake at last from stupid war.

Enjoy instead what life is for.

We can do this, you and me.

We and all humanity.

Just Frends Dance Academy by Marina Moldovan is licensed under CC-BY-NC-ND 4.0



We can dance in maize and blue. 

It’s just what we are meant to do. 

Help and learn and farm, invent.

War is something we’ll prevent. 

The steps are small;

But dance is all; 

Soon, everyone is standing tall.

As all are dancing, all for all. 

We can do this, you and me.

We and all humanity.

———————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Index to Pattern Language for Cooperation and Collaboration

Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

Ripples

https://petersironwood.com/2020/08/23/listen-you-can-hear-the-echoes-of-your-actions/

Take a glance; join the dance

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing