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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Tag Archives: truth

The Truth about Clouds and Gods

17 Thursday Oct 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology, story, Veritas

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

belief, faith, legends, myths, psychology, religion, truth, Veritas

Eagle Eyes awoke first. She smiled at the cool mist that enveloped the edge of the forest where she and Lion Slayer had bedded down for the night. They agreed that stopping, and eventually sleep, would be more prudent than pushing their weary bodies further possibly causing injury in the dark journey over unfamiliar ground. Eagle Eyes loved clouds and especially the ones that came right down to you. She smiled again. 

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Ever since she had been a little girl of four winters, Eagle Eyes had spent much time looking skyward. Partly, she loved watching birds soar, dart, turn, glide, bank, and dive. Understanding how the shape of their wings related to their rainbow palette of actions — that first insight about form and function is what began her fascination with shapes. But Eyes of Eagle also enjoyed watching the clouds move, form, reform, transform. They formed dragons, horses, people, deer, and so on. She imagined she could fly up to visit the clouds so she could discover what they were made of. 

One day, when Eagle Eyes was about seven, she had mentioned her cloud obsession to She Who Saves Many Lives. The tribe elder smiled and knelt down in front of the child, Eagle Eyes. 

“Now, my dear. What do you think clouds are made of?” 

Eagle Eyes had said, “She Who Saves Many Lives, I do not know. They look a bit like the fluff that blows off the cattail. They look a little like the seeds of milkweed and dandelion as well. Well, not the seeds really but the wings of the seeds that allow them to fly. But sometimes, I imagine they are more like dough before it is cooked. Sometimes, when mother makes tea, the steam that rises from the tea reminds me of clouds.”

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She Who Saves Many Lives had smiled again. “You do have quite an imagination. What if I told you that one of those guesses is exactly right? At least to the best of my knowledge. How could you see which one is correct?”

Eagle Eyes had thought as hard as she possibly could. “Well, I think I like the one where they are dough the best because that would feed the whole village!” 

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She Who Saves Many Lives had nodded. “I suppose that might be the most fun to imagine. And, if it were actually true, it would be wonderful. Which do you think is most likely the true state of affairs?” 

Eagle Eyes thought about each of them in turn. “I think it’s like the steam of the tea. I’ve watched how the cattail fluff blows and most of it ends up on the ground. Which is what the cattail wants anyway. So it can grow a new baby plant. And the same for dandelion and milkweed. It never goes up over the mountains like clouds do.”

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“I don’t see why there would be dough in the sky. I was helping once and dropped the dough on the ground. People were not happy. How could it be way up there? It falls! I know!”

“Well, Eagle Eyes, you are exactly right. And, though you cannot fly up to the clouds, sometimes, the clouds come right down to visit us!”

“That would be fun!” exclaimed Eagle Eyes. “But I still don’t see why I can’t have the one about the dough. I mean, it’s not really true, but we could say it is and it would make people happy to know all that dough is up there in case everyone got hungry.” 

She Who Saves Many Lives sighed loudly. “Why do you suppose the Veritas search for nuts and greens? Why do you suppose we hunt and fish?” 

“She Who Saves Many Lives, everyone knows that! So we can eat! All animals have to eat!”  

The tribe elder nodded and asked the girl, “That’s right. What if everyone decided they didn’t need to hunt. They didn’t need to fish. They didn’t need to find acorns or hickory nuts. They could just take a big chunk of dough out of the sky to feed everyone’s belly? If everyone believed that all clouds were dough, they might not do any fishing and hunting and gathering and starve instead. It is always thus with the truth. It is fine to have pretty stories, but don’t mislead people into thinking the pretty story is actually a true story. This is why the Veritas value truth so highly.” 

“I see,” Eagle Eyes had said brightly. “Can we play hide-and-seek now?” 

“Eagle Eyes! Eagle Eyes! Are you all right?” Lion Slayer had awakened and now stood staring down at the blank expression of Eagle Eyes. 

“What?!” exclaimed Eagle Eyes. “Oh. Sorry. I was daydreaming. Let’s get ready and go.” She looked about her and noticed that the fog had dissolved. 

“Daydreaming about what, Eagle Eyes?” inquired Lion Slayer. 

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you the story once we are making good time getting back. We need to deliver our news to the tribe.” 

Soon, they were on their way. At first, they walked, then, they jogged. As their sore joints and muscles warmed up, they began to jog faster. Eagle Eyes related her reverie to Lion Slayer. 

He took it in silently for a time. Finally, when they sat for a break, he said, “We also value the truth highly. But there are higher truths that must be believed. So, we believe all things were created in a flash. All this” — Lion Slayer swept his hand around the grassy field — “was created in an eye blink by the One and Mighty.”

Eagle Eyes removed her moccasins, stretched her toes and massaged her feet. “How do you know about this instant creation? What I see around me is usually slow change. But sometimes change happens quickly. I see that too. A tree may grow slowly for many years and then be stuck by lightening and its nature changes from a living growing thing to a dead hulk. And, the fire that nearly killed us…that was a fast change! In fact, I’m not sure I ever properly thanked you. If you hadn’t found a way out, I probably would have perished.” Eagle Eyes shivered. 

Lion Tamer shrugged. “We were both lucky. Or, the One and Mighty saved us.” 

“Whatever the reason,” said Eagle Eyes, “I am happy to be alive.” Eagle Eyes rolled to a spot from which she could rest her feet on the trunk of a tree. “Ah, that feels good. Try it. It will let us get going again more quickly. Here. There is a spot beside me.” She patted the ground.

Lion Tamer arose and walked a few paces closer to Eagle Eyes. He glanced at her beautiful, well-muscled thighs. He decided to stare up at the treetops instead. They both looked up at the canopy of green above. Lion Tamer found his eyes drifting back to Eagle Eyes. “Perhaps we should get going. I am eager to be reunited with Hudah.” 

“Yes,” mused Eagle Eyes, “and I with Fleet of Foot. Although we may also be hastening the time of discovering we are the only survivors of that fire.” 

Feet still in the air against the tree trunk, Lion Slayer wiggled his feet. “The One and Mighty will protect them. You will see.” 

“I hope you’re right. Does the One and Mighty always do as you desire?” asked Eagle Eyes. 

“No. But the One and Mighty always does the right thing,” replied Lion Slayer. 

“Always? How can you know that?” 

“I have faith. It is our way. Our tales are handed down from tribal leader, father to son, since the beginning of time. So, we know them to be true.” 

“True? The Veritas have tales too. We have a story, for instance, about how language began. I think there is some truth in it. People may have begun by making noises of animals for fun, or to reassure them, or to make hunting them easier. But eventually, people used the noise of an animal as a word for the animal. But I don’t imagine every word of the legend is true. And, we have the sound of zzz in our language but you do not. Could it be we have more bees around? I don’t know.” 

“You speak of tales and legends, but what we pass down is only the truth. Anyway, we should go.” 

“Yes. But you believe all the legends? I heard many of them while visiting.  I mean, do you believe it’s really true about the crystal mountain and the all-killing mountain of fire? You don’t think these are metaphors but literal truths?” 

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Lion Slayer did not hesitate. “They are true. All of them.” 

“We should go.” Eagle Eyes swung her legs back down to the ground and scrambled nimbly to her feet. “That feels better!”

Lion Slayer did the same. “You’re right! I’ve never used that technique before. We don’t have so many trees handy as in these lands.” 

They set off again, first walking and then jogging. After a few hours they came to rocky lands and followed a small trail single file to the crest of a hill. As they approached the crest, Eagle Eyes slowed to a walk and then got down on all fours and crept to the top so that she could espy any possible enemies before they spied her. She saw, not an enemy, but an old friend that nearly made her jump up incautiously and shout for joy. 

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———————————————

Author Page on Amazon

Poetry & Short Stories

The Veritas Myth about Language

The Legend of the Orange Man

The Start of Book One: The Myths of the Veritas

The Start of Book Two: The Myths of the Veritas

———————————————

Introduction to a Pattern Language for Collaboration 

Index to the Pattern Language for Collaboration 

First of Three Essays on the Pros and Cons of Artificial Intelligence

A Profound & Utter Failure

11 Friday Oct 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 29 Comments

Tags

envy, ethics, evil, good, hate, jealousy, life, love, politics, survival, truth

A Profound and Utter Failure

For years I have puzzled about why someone would get into a state where they actively and wantonly worked toward the destruction of life itself. By “life” here, I don’t just refer to human life. I refer to the entire tree of life including all our fellow humans but also butterflies, trees, dolphins, and wolves. Everyone is actually part of that tree. So why should one part of the tree want to destroy the whole. 

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Let’s take a journey back in time to your childhood. If you go back far enough, I think you will find a time when you would be susceptible to hatching the following fairly evil plot. 

Let’s say that you and your friends decided on a really cool project — say to build a treehouse. Each of you was responsible for one major item. Your individual responsibility was to get a very long extension cord. You realized you had the easiest job and therefore you put it off the longest. As you returned each good-weather day after school to the site of the treehouse, the progress was obvious. And one day you arrived and it was finished. All your friends were up in the treehouse. They all waved to you and invited you up. One held up a transistor radio with a portable TV and shouted, “Bring the extension cord! We can watch TV! Any channel we want!” 

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But you didn’t have the extension cord. Now, of course, you probably just said, “Oh, darn! I forgot! I’m so sorry! I will go try to get one right now.” And, that would be that. You and your friends could have spent a summer or two enjoying that treehouse until you outgrew it and the weather made it unpleasantly moldy and unstable. 

Perhaps you can imagine a slightly different way of reacting. Instead of admitting you had forgotten, you instead reacted like this: “Well, why should you get to have fun up there while I have to go get an extension cord? A treehouse is stupid anyway. They’re unsafe! And once I tell your parents about it, they will forbid you to use it!” Can you imagine getting into a headspace, as a kid, where you would rather spoil the party than let anyone enjoy it if your own enjoyment was tarnished for any reason, including guilt? 

Or, imagine as a teenager that you and your friend both went to take the written test for a learner’s permit. You finished and failed with a score of 65. You watch your friend still working on the test. Do you want them to pass with a 75? 85? 100? Do you want them to fail? Personally, even as a teen, I would want them to succeed. However — I am very aware of a part of me that would like them to fail. Ironically, that part would have been wishing for my friend to fail more than for a random stranger to fail. Can you feel that too? 

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So, these are some trivial instances where an immature person might be tempted to act as though, if they can’t have what they want, then no-one should. 

Now imagine someone who felt themselves to be a profound and utter failure. Absolute. Utter. A fraud. A person with negative wealth who claimed to be rich. A person completely unable to do their job. A person who fails at relationships, at work, and has no real friends. 

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A person who nonetheless insists and screams and yells that they are perfect in all things and the best at everything. 

Imagine that they felt the only life that really matters is their own. 

Now imagine that they are about to die. 

Now imagine that they have to power to make others die with them. 

Many others. Many, many others. And not just human beings.

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Such a person would have no affection for pets or for wild animals. 

Might such a person want to destroy the entire tree of life because they view themselves as a profound and utter failure?


Author Page on Amazon 

Myths of the Veritas: When Eagles Return

05 Saturday Oct 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

communication, leadership, legends, lying, myths, stories, truth

Though the winged creature was hooded, Many Paths stretched her hand forth slowly and carefully so as not to startle the raptor away. As she did so, she imitated the screes of joy the eagles sang when they rode the air high above. She hoped that would work. It seemed to help to train the wolves. She missed them too! So many of her favorite people gone — and at her suggestion. To the task at hand, she ordered herself. 

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It occurred to her at just this moment that perhaps the eagles were not singing for joy at all. Maybe they were exchanging information about the location of prey below! Or, maybe they were arguing about whose turn it was to have first go at devouring the body of the unlucky rabbit or mouse. Here I am, she chuckled, named Many Paths and still jumping to conclusions and taking the first line of thought that arises. 

What else might they be? What do people do? People speak of things far beyond their immediate concerns. Do the animals? Do they tell each other stories? Make promises? Do they apologize? Do they try to trick each other? Well, they certainly do that! 

Even as her mind raced about the challenges of cooperating with animals of a different species, her hand still slid steadily and smoothly to the target and she deftly undid the small knots. Now, she slowly withdrew her hand and murmured warmly to the raptor on her arm. 

“Thank you, mighty eagle, for this word from afar.” 

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Many Paths recognized the cloth even before it was fully unrolled: the shred was from Eagle Eyes! The two of them had travelled together to gather the rare indigo gentian which Eagle Eyes had used to dye part of her smock. 

Many Paths felt a sudden pull of connection to Eagle Eyes as she felt the cloth. She held it close and drew breath in through her nostrils. Perhaps it was only imagination but she caught the scent of Eagle Eyes. Something else was much stronger though! Soot. Fire. As she looked more closely, she could see that a tiny section of the cloth had been burned! 

She of Many Paths felt that she had to share this new information with the tribe … and soon. First, she wanted to think what it might signify. Many Paths frowned. She wished that Eagle Eyes might have somehow drawn a map — possibly even including the positions of all of the companions of Eagle Eyes. She couldn’t tell whether Shadow Walker or Tu-Swift were all right. Why couldn’t she include cloth from them too…or their signs. She recalled with a smile the map that She Who Saves Many Lives had given her for their test for the First Ring of Empathy. But of course, that map was much too large to expect an eagle to carry very far. 

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Many Paths strode toward the feast and tried to frame how she would present this. On the one hand, it was good news, but the news was ambiguous and incomplete. The fire part didn’t seem positive, but it was hard to tell. Too bad, she thought, that eagles couldn’t carry a better and more complete map. But the wolves could! Maybe they would bring more complete news. She felt a pang of affection for them as well as loss. She missed the wolves. Immediately, a much stronger feeling of missing flowed over her, for everyone, but especially Tu-Swift and Shadow Walker. She sighed and felt a big hollow inside, but then, the image of Shadow Walker came quite clearly to mind. She felt as though she could almost hear him talking though it seemed likely he was far away. The mind does play funny tricks sometimes, thought Many Paths, but it seems like he is telling me that my idea is right; we could communicate over distances by sending maps and symbols. Sounds a bit crazy, but why not? The wolves can track by a scent from something that is no longer where they are. What if we humans could learn to put a whole host of marks and scents on paper and then send it quickly via the wolves? She arrived at the feast and mentally placed this idea up on a branch of a tree she kept for “Interesting ideas to be thought about later.” For now it was time to reassure the people and tell them what she knew. For a split second, she considered the idea to pretend that she had simply “foreseen” that Eagle Eyes was all right and that there had been a fire. People might begin to believe she was magic and that could help focus the people to a purpose when the need became great. She could even weave a story that involved the “Magic Rings of Empathy.” 

Now she smiled at the folly of that course. If she were successful in this lie — because exaggerating one’s own powers is always a lie — it would only make her make more outrageous lies in the future. The people cannot be led on a wise path with lies. That seems obvious. 

Why then did she come up with such absurd courses of action? Maybe it was to continue to strengthen her resolve to do what was best for her people. For each time such a plot surfaced, at least so far, she had resisted the temptation. Mainly, she saw it was the wrong thing to do. Imagine that your eyes began lying to your toes about the position of a stone. Imagine that your mouth lied to your stomach and your hand lied to your mouth. 

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Even from a selfish standpoint, such exaggerations of her powers would be quite dangerous. She could be found out and lose all credibility with the tribe. Suppose someone believed that the Magic of Remote Sight arose from the Rings alone. Someone might contrive to steal those rings, with or without her fingers attached! If she shared the actual evidence she had, a shred of cloth, the whole tribe could apply their wisdom about likely interpretations. But if, instead, she presented her interpretation as fact, people could not think straight nor generate the full set of likely possibilities. 

Beyond that, Many Paths knew that she could never fully enjoy and participate in the feast or in talking with her tribe mates if she knew she were telling them a lie. She would be — forever alone — even if they never found out. She would know she was lying. She would know. And that would put up a wall between them. No matter what someone said to her, she would have to “check to see” whether her answer would betray her or might betray her. A moment’s lapse of ethics, thought She of Many Paths, could lead to a lifetime of cover-ups and further lives. 

Instead, she took her place among warm greetings and admiration. She let it be known that she had some interesting news to share around the fire after their meal of venison and corn on the cob.

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Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

 

————————————————

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Orange Man: A Parable of Lying and Greed

The First Ring of Empathy (The Start of Book One) 

Fire and Feast (The Start of Book Two)

An Essay on How we sometimes Confuse the Label with the Thing

Author Page on Amazon

A Once-Baked Potato

28 Saturday Sep 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, driverless cars, politics, psychology

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

AI, automation, driverless cars, life, politics, truth

A Once-Baked Potato 

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I’m really not ready to go for a long, high speed trip in a completely automated car. 

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I say that because of my baked potatoes. One for me. One for my wife. 

I’ve done it many times before. Here is my typical process. I take out a variety of vegetables to chop and chop the broccoli, red onion, garlic, red pepper while the potatoes are in the microwave. I put them in for some time like: 4:32 minutes and then, when that times out, I “test” the potatoes with a fork and put them in for more time. Actually, before I even take them out to use the “fork test” I shake the potatoes. I can tell from the “feel” whether they are still rock hard. If they are marginal, then, I use the more sensitive “fork test.”  Meanwhile, I chop more vegetables and take out the cheese. I test the potatoes again. At some point, they are well done and I slather them up with butter and cheese and then add the chopped Vegetables. 

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Delicious. 

But today is different. 

I pushed a button on the microwave that says, “Baked Potato.” Right away, I think: “Baked potato? I’m not putting in a baked potato. I’m putting in a raw potato. You have a button labelled ‘Popcorn’ — it doesn’t say, ‘Popped Corn’ so … ? Anyway, I decided to give it a try. 

The first disadvantage I see is that I have no idea whatsoever how long this process is going to take. I assume it has to take at least four and a half minutes. When I cook it via my usual process, it’s on “high” or “full power.” So, unless the microwave has a “hidden” higher power level that it allows its internal programs to have access to but not its end users, it seems I have at least 4 1/3 minutes to chop. 

Changing the way you do things always causes a little bit of discomfort, though often, a feeling of adventure outweighs that cautionary urge. In this case, I felt a lot of discomfort. The microwave can’t feel how done the potato is so it must be using some other sensor or sensors — likely moisture — though there may be other ways to do it. How do I know that the correlation between how I measure “doneness” and how the microwave measures “doneness” is even moderate? I am also a little concerned that there are, after all, two potatoes, not just one. There was no way to tell the machine that I had two potatoes. I decided that it was likely that the technical problems had been solved. 

Why? Certainly not because I have great faith in large multinational corporations to “do what’s right” rather than do what’s expedient. Once upon a time, not so many years ago, that really was my default assumption. But no longer. Too many lies by too many corporations about too many separate topics. Once upon a time, the government held some power to hold corporations accountable for their actions. Now, the power seems to have shifted so that many politicians — too many — are beholden to their corporate owners.  

The corporation just tries to work for its self-interests. They aren’t very good at it, but that’s their goal. 

Among the common ways they fail is by being too conservative. If they are successful by doing things a certain way, they often keep at it despite changes in the technology, the markets, the cost structures, the distribution possibilities, etc. (They are too afraid to push the “Baked Potato” button). At the same time, there seems to be no evil that many of them would foreswear in order to grow their profits; no lie that is too prosperous for them to tell. 

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Photo by Alex Andrews on Pexels.com

Yet, I live, at least for now, in this world surrounded by products made by these companies and interacting with them all the time. I cannot trust them as a whole, but it’s almost impossible not to rely on some of them some of the time. They can’t fool all of the people all of the time. 

I do calculate that if they put these buttons on there and they were horrible, word would get around and they would lose market share. This presumes that there is real competition in the market. 

I think it likely that driverless cars will be “safer” than human drivers on average within ten years, and possibly sooner. My discomfort stems, again, partly from habit, but largely from a lack of confidence in the ethics of corporations. Normally, I would think that when it comes to life and death, at least, I can put some degree of faith in the government to oversee these companies enough to ensure their safety data were accurate. 

But I no longer believe that. And even after Trump resigns or gets impeached & convicted or he flees to Russia, there is no way to know how deeply and pervasively this corrupt misadministration has crept into the ethics of lesser government officials.  Any government official might think: “after all, if the President is flouting the Constitution by using the power of his office for his own benefit, why shouldn’t I? I need a bribe just as much as the next person and I certainly need the money more than Trump did!”

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Beep. Beep. 

The microwave claims the potatoes are done. 

And so they are. Perfectly. 

There is still hope for America. 

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Maybe I will be able to take that ride after all. 


 

Author Page on Amazon. 

Corn on the Cob

Parametric Recipes and American Democracy 

Pies on Offer

Garlic Cloves and Puffer Fish

The Pros and Cons of AI: Part One

 

Essays on America: At Least he’s Our Monster!

19 Thursday Sep 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 56 Comments

Tags

criminal, environment, Impeachment, life, politics, truth

“He’s a Monster, but at Least He’s Our Monster.” Little Sally pointed her tiny finger toward the writhing orange blob, then turned back to her older brother, Tony. Sally smirked smugly and folder her arms, dipping her head slightly as if that clinched the argument. 

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“No he isn’t!” insisted Tony. “You’re deluding yourself.” 

Perhaps Tony thought of his real name “Marc Anthony” as an invitation — perhaps a demand — to wax upon the topic; I won’t say wax elegant — but some sort of wax — as you might obtain as part of a ten dollar drive-through car wash. Perhaps if he had waxed more elegantly, but alas, that was not the case.

Tony thus proceeded:  “The whole point of being a Monster is that you don’t answer to anyone else. That includes a team captain, a superior officer, a teacher or any other “authority” figure. But you may, of course, give in temporarily to a more powerful monster. You are using him for your own purposes — playing on his vanity. Other, less powerful people you bully into doing what is in your own interests — or often just on a whim. You play to the throngs by giving them entertainment. But you have no loyalty to them either. 

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Liberty – Sold to the Highest Bidder. Hold for pickup.

“Our Monster — as you call it just because that’s the name he likes  — has no loyalty. He absolutely thinks loyalty is garbage – a set of words and concepts you can use on some people to get them to do what you want. So, sure, he thinks it’s fine to pretend loyalty in order to manipulate others. But the instant he thinks one of his “loyal followers” is a liability, he’ll destroy that person as best he can. If all he can do is ruin their reputation, he’ll do that. If they own key personnel in courts and law enforcement, he’ll use the courts to ruin his “comrades.” If and when he gains still more power over the police and military, he’ll destroy his enemies physically. 

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“And, if he runs out of enemies, he’ll start calling old friends, new enemies and destroy them as well. You’re playing with something worse than fire, here Sally.” 

Sally sniffed. “You’re just jealous because he likes me better than you!” 

A shrill scream shot through the air. Sally & Tony both jerked their heads toward the sound. The sharp teeth of the round-mouthed orange monster opened wide as it bellowed and screeched. “HUNGRY! HUNGRY!” 

“Well,” said Sally, “I think he’s cute, so I’m going to feed him.” 

As Sally scanned their scant provisions for something that would likely please the monster, Tony continued to try to dissuade her. 

“Look, Sally, it’s not safe. It may look somewhat human, but he has no human feelings. He just…” 

Sally picked up some lunch meat from the nearly empty fridge and ignored Tony as she walked out into the back deck. She looked down on the writhing form of our poor monster. She muttered to herself, “I don’t see why he needs to be penned up. He should be free to go anywhere he wants and to do anything he wants like everyone else.” 

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Photo by Pedro Sandrini on Pexels.com

Sally strode over to the edge of the deck, took one backward glance to see whether Tony was coming to stop her and drew her arm back to toss the package of meat. She hesitated for a moment. What if Tony’s right? What if it really is dangerous? 

The monster’s plaintive cry bellowed through the air again, “HUNGRY! HUNGRY! FEED ME!” 

Well, thought Sally, I’m not going to do — or not do — something just because my smarty pants brother says it’s a bad idea. She cocked her arm again and threw the packaged down to monster — MY monster, she thought. 

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Monster immediately tore off the packaging and tossed it aside. He had already made quite a mess of his pen. He gobbled it up in a flash. Then, he began moaning. “Not fresh! Low quality! Need fresh! FRESH! Come closer, little girl. Pretty girl. Oh, you are a pretty girl! No-one ever pets me. Woe is me!” 

The monster waddled over to the edge of his pen. From here, Sally judged, she should be able to barely pat the top of his scruffy head. He looked up with dog eyes and she put her hand out to pet her. Suddenly, Monster’s neck shot up and took her whole hand in its mouth. It sucked on her hand and she could feel its sharp teeth against her skin. It began growling in its throat but she could understand what it was saying, “Bring me fresh meat! Or, I will eat you! I need it NOW!” 

The monster released her hand and stared up into her eyes with its dull shark eyes. She glanced back into the kitchen but saw no sign of Tony. The skin of her arm was unbroken. But that Monster really sucks! 

Where had Tony gone? She opened the kitchen door and padded about. No-one here but old Winston, the sick gray cat. Winston had once been a fun lively pet, but these days — not so much. Maybe he’d be happier dead. She knew in her heart of hearts that was a lie. But somehow, lying for the Monster didn’t seem so bad. She grabbed Winston by the scruff of the neck and put her hands under his aging body. She could feel the old cat’s ribs. She had to use her butt to open the door back to the deck but she managed. Like a zombie, she walked over to the edge and tossed the cat over before she lost her courage. 

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The cat was gone in a single gulp! Well, she thought, at least it was painless. “There you go, Monster!” 

“I NEED MORE! MORE Fresh Meat!” the monster pleaded. “NOW!” 

“We don’t have any more meat. Times are tough. Would you like some fruit?” 

“MEAT! NOW! MORE and Fresh! NOW!” wailed the Monster. 

“Okay, just a minute, Monster. I’ll look.” 

Sally re-entered the kitchen but saw no sign of Tony. She walked into the entry way and there sat Tony putting his fishing boots on. 

“Where are you going, Tony?” 

“I’m going fishing! You just threw away our last package of lunch meat. Like an idiot!” 

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Sally ground her teeth. Why was her brother so mean about the Monster? “Tony,” she said sweetly, “I’m glad you’re going fishing. I’m sorry I gave our last meat to the Monster, but I think you’re right! He’s dangerous! And, I think he’s about to break out of his pen! Can you come take a look before you go?”

Tony nodded. “All right. I’m glad you’re finally seeing some sense!” He finished putting on his boots making the trek out onto the back deck a little awkward but he came to the edge and looked down at the Monster. He scanned the pen. “Sally, I don’t see a problem with the pen.” 

Sally came up next to him.  “Look over — like here — right below. Doesn’t it look like a hole in the fencing? It might be okay, but it looks wrecked somehow.” 

Tony leaned over the rail to look at the fencing directly below. “WHAT?!” he screamed as Sally snuck behind him and lifted his feet making him tumble a dozen feet onto the ground below. Something — perhaps several somethings — snapped as he hit the ground awkwardly. “NO!” he screamed. Those were his last words. 

Sally felt a moment of guilt but then thought: Well, he had it coming. Anyway, now the Monster’s fed. And he was really hungry. She felt just a bit nauseous though as she heard the monster’s teeth saw through the bones. She couldn’t tell her parents what really happened of course. When the noise stopped, she crept over to the edge. There were only small pieces of her brother left and these were being lapped up by the Monster who stopped long enough to leer at Sally. 

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“Monster happy! Thank you, little girl. Pet Monster, pretty little girl. Please pet Monster.” 

Having a pet Monster like this was a lot better than having a pesky brother she decided. 

She put her hand down to pet the Monster’s scruffy head again. She stared uncomprehending at the place where her right arm had been just moments before. A pulsing geyser of someone’s blood spurted through the air. She shook her head and said, “What?” That’s my blood, she realized and she fell forward. She was losing consciousness. She found the strength to move her head and the last thing she saw was the Monster’s impossibly long neck stretching that roundish hole of teeth toward her face. The Monster laughed and said, “Pretty little stupid girl.” 

After digesting the lunch meat, the cat, Tony and Sally, the Monster felt quite satisfied. 

For an hour. 

Then, he began using his new found bulk and strength to dismantle his pen. Now he would be free. 

Free at last. 

Free to kill and eat all the children he could. 

Life was good, thought “Our” Monster. 

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An earlier parable about a monster. 

The beginning of the Myths of the Veritas. 

Author Page on Amazon. 

Essays on America: Ice

04 Wednesday Sep 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, psychology, science, Uncategorized

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

arctic, carbon dioxide, Climate change, environment, ice, life, methane, politics, science, truth

“Have a nice day.” 

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In the San Diego area, where I live, people really do often say, “Have a nice day.” And, generally, that happens, at least weather-wise. It is typically between 55 and 75 degrees Fahrenheit (13 to 24 degrees Celsius) year round. Right now, we are having a slight heat wave. When I went to play tennis this morning, I filled a cup 2/3 ice and 1/3 water to help me stay cool and hydrated on the court. Although we played at 8:30 am, the temperature on the tennis court was already high. As I filled my cup (to almost running over), I was once again struck by the odd properties of ice. 

One of those properties is that ice is less dense than water. Ice floats. That turns out to be a good thing. But it’s also an unusual thing. Many substances contract as they get colder and expand as they get warmer. 

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There’s another weird thing about ice. It takes as much heat energy* to change a cup of ice at 32 degrees Fahrenheit (0 degrees Celsius) to a cup of water at 32 degrees Fahrenheit as it does to warm that water from 32 degrees F to 176 degrees F!! That is hot water! Exposure to water for two seconds that is only 150 degrees F will give you third degree burns. You do not want to touch water that is 176 degrees Fahrenheit (80 degrees Celsius)! 

Just contemplate that astounding fact. It takes as much heat energy to change a cup (or any other amount) of ice to water at that same temperature as it does to heat that ice cold water up to way beyond scalding. 

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“Well, okay,” you might say. “But who really cares?” 

You do! Or at least you should. Because all that ice that is melting at the Arctic and in Iceland and in Greenland — that is a big frigging deal! 

And I think you would immediately know it’s a big frigging deal if Global Warming heated the ice cold water in the Arctic Ocean to scalding water that was so hot it killed all the fish, dolphins, whales, crabs, and seaweed in the ocean. It would kill you almost instantly if you tried to swim in it. 

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Actually, what is happening is worse than that. 

Why? Because although water is reflective, it is not nearly so reflective as ice covered with snow. Chances are, you may have heard the expression “snow blind” which is a temporary blindness caused by the sunlight bouncing off snow and hurting your retina. But you have not heard the expression “water blind.” Although there can be glare off the water, it is not nearly so severe. So, when the ice melts, it not only represents a huge change in heat energy; it also speeds up the further heating of the planet. The sunlight once reflected off of ice covered with snow and that helped keep the planet cooler. In those areas where the ice and snow have melted, much less of the sun’s energy is now reflected off into space. 

Actually, what is happening is worse than that. 

Why? Because the arctic heat is also thawing permafrost in arctic lands. This means that methane which is trapped beneath the permafrost is being released into the atmosphere. Alas, methane, like Carbon Dioxide, is a greenhouse gas. So, the increased level of Carbon Dioxide in the atmosphere is not only itself causing the planet to heat up; it is also releasing huge quantities of another greenhouse gas: methane. 

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Unfortunately, in the first two decades after being released into the atmosphere, methane is 84 times as “effective” as Carbon Dioxide at trapping the heat energy in the earth’s atmosphere. Agro-business and manufacturing also produce methane. This means more warming and less ice. 

As it turns out, there are many possible variations of ice. The exact number of different types varies depending on what “counts” as another type. You know that “solid ice” is different from frost and snowflakes and candle ice. Under extreme pressures, many kinds can be produced in the laboratory. But none of them is Ice Nine. 

Ice Nine is a science fiction substance created by the mind of Kurt Vonnegut in his wonderful book, Cat’s Cradle, which is well worth the read. 

In Cat’s Cradle, a scientist discovers another form of ice which “freezes” at room temperature. Not only that; if even a tiny “seed” of this Ice Nine touches a larger body of water, that entire body of water will turn into Ice Nine. So, an over-arching suspense arc of the book is whether or not humanity will be able to “contain” Ice Nine or whether it will basically destroy life on earth. 

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Ice Nine is fiction. But global climate change is not fiction. 

Whether we humans can get our act together in time to prevent turning Global Climate Change into Global Climate Disaster is not clear. Many people are working very hard to prevent that. But many other people apparently think it will happen after their individual life is over so they don’t really give a damn about how many of their descendants will suffer or how many other life forms they destroy. And a few people, those I call SHRUGS (Super Hyper Really Ultra-Greedy Swindlers), are actively trying to hasten the Global Climate Disaster by rolling back environmental regulations, setting forests afire, and denying that Climate Change is real. 

Why? 

That’s the subject of the next post. 

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  • In actual practice, the amount of heat will vary depending on the insulation and ambient temperature. If you heat ice water up on your stove, for example, at first, in addition to the heat you provide from the gas flame or electric coil, your house temperature (perhaps around 72 degrees F) will also be heating up that water. But once the temperature of the water reaches a higher temperature than 72 degrees F, some of the heat you apply from the stove will “leak out” into the rest of your house. And the higher the temperature of the water, the more will leak out into the rest of your house. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cat%27s_Cradle

Author Page on Amazon

A Little is Not a Lot.

03 Tuesday Sep 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 22 Comments

Tags

cheating, communication, cooperation, Design, lies, politics, POTUS, Putin, quantity, science, truth

“A little’s not a lot.

A swing may be a miss. 

You must remember this:

A kiss is not a kiss

Without the bliss.

A single sword does not

Make Camelot. 

Offers don’t make bought. 

A day does not make old. 

All that glitters is not gold. 

Ads do not make sold 

Without the goods, 

A tree is not a woods. 

A giant sea of coulds 

Does not imply a single spoon of shoulds.”

@truthtable, 2019. 

———————————

I just reheated a lukewarm half cup of French Roast coffee. I zapped it in the microwave for 18 seconds. That seemed about right, and it turned out very close to perfect. If I’d put it in for 17 seconds or 19 seconds, I would have been equally satisfied. 

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Do you think 1 second would have worked equally well? My “microwave,” despite the name, does not let me control the time to a microsecond, or even a millisecond. Do you think a millisecond would have been sufficient heating time? What do you think would happen if I put it in for 18 minutes or 18 hours instead of 18 seconds? 

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I’ve been watching the US Open on TV. There have been some amazing matches! Like the folks on TV, I can hit a serve. I can volley. I can hit topspin or slice. I can hit backhand, forehand, swinging volley, and overhead. I can aim the ball toward the empty court, or hit behind a player racing to cover the empty court. Yet, I don’t think any of my readers, however much or however little you know about tennis, would ever confuse my play with any of the contestants in the US Open! Why? I mean, is there really much difference between my forehand and Rafa Nadal’s forehand? Sure, he puts more topspin on and hits it with more speed. Why should that make a difference? 

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On a completely different topic, let’s consider nutrition for a moment. Do you think water is good for you? Yes or no? Without any access to fresh water, people die. How long it takes to die of dehydration will depend on health, activity, ambient temperature and other factors. As a general rule, three days without water will kill you, but it could be much shorter or slightly longer. But you won’t die in a millisecond. And you won’t survive for a year. It’s obvious; right? So water is good for you! 

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But wait. You can also kill yourself by drinking too much water. It takes about 6 liters of water to kill a 165 pound person. Of course, it depends slightly on the person and the situation. But you will not die from 6 teaspoons and you will certainly not survive drinking 60 liters in an hour. 

You can certainly drown in water. People do it ever year. In 2015, it is estimated that over 300,000 people died from drowning! It seems to me that water must be bad for you! Yet, you cannot live without it. 

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What about exercise? Good or bad? If you never exercise, that is certainly bad for you (which is why I wrote Fit in Bits). If you run as fast as you can for as long as you can, you will injure or kill yourself (as did the very first marathoner). Again, it depends on your health and the situation. Some people can survive a 50 mile race. Others will have a fatal heart attack sprinting 100 yards. 

How can life be so contradictory? 

Life is not contradictory. 

But neither is it composed of a set of perfect dichotomies. 

We like to impose dichotomies because it makes thinking and decision making quicker and less painful. In some limited circumstances, this strategy is appropriate. It’s fine to try to avoid cutting yourself. Under most circumstances, you don’t really have to say to yourself, “Hmm. It’s Tuesday, September 3rd. I wonder how much I should cut myself today?” No, any cut means a chance of infection and will take some of your biological resources to heal and recover from the blood loss. 

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Nonetheless, there is a difference between nicking yourself while shaving and being beheaded. There is a difference between stubbing your toe and being stoned to death by an angry crowd.

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I must confess to feeling a bit foolish pointing these things out, because I imagine everyone reading this is well aware that “some” does not equal “all” and that in many circumstances, how much and under what circumstances make a huge difference. If you want to give a pint of blood some day so that others may live, good for you! You’ll be doing it lying down and in the presence of medical personnel who will minimize the chances of infection to near zero. But you can’t give six pints of blood in one day. And, it is not advisable to “do it yourself” by slashing your wrist, collecting a pint of blood and then putting on a bandaid before transporting the blood to a blood bank.

Again — isn’t this all obvious? Well, I would have thought so. 

Yet, over and over, when I talk to supporters of the current US President and mention that he has told over 12,000 lies since taking office, people almost always say, “So what? Everyone lies.” 

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I am a dinner guest for the first time at the house of an acquaintance and they serve overdone salmon with way too much salt for my taste. I might say it’s “good” or that I “like it.” Depending on the situation, and how much they press me, I might also mention that I also eat sushi so I’m okay with having it less done. I might or might not mention that I’m never add table salt to my food. 

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If they say, “I like it…but I think I might have put too much salt in. What do you think?” At that point, since they are asking for honest feedback, I am going to tell them that I agree with them and that it tastes very salty.” Generally, I like to give people feedback that is honest, unambiguous, and offers a positive suggestion for how to improve. In the case of cooking, it makes a lot more sense to mention my preferences before the meal whether I’m at a restaurant or at someone’s home. Now, if I am nonetheless served over-salted, over-cooked food, I have a basis for being more frank than if I hit them with new requirements after it’s too late (at least this time) to do much about it. 

Giving feedback that is honest, direct, and offers an actionable suggestion is a good heuristic to use in the design of user interfaces as well. An error message that says, “Illegal syntax!” is fairly useless in and of itself as is “Stack overflow!” Error messages such as these are written from the developer’s viewpoint. They may serve as useful error messages during debugging. They are useless for the typical user. 

All humans are created equal. But not all lies are equally evil. And many many lies are not the same as a few lies. If you still think that publicly telling 12,000 lies that are told by a person who is supposed to be leading the country — lies that are told for the liar’s own short term benefit — if that ocean of lies is the same as a teaspoon of a lie told to encourage a child, or spare someone else’s feelings, then, please re-read this post from the beginning. 

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Human language enables us to communicate over time and space. It is a wonderful thing. Without language, we would basically be living lives not very different from those of primates in a zoo. Human language allows us to work together harmoniously; to specialize in particular skills; to build roads and buildings; to discover things about nature and ourselves; to invent and to improve. Human language can be used for no other purpose than to attempt to con people. 

There are even cases, where being “conned” is understood and acceptable. If you see a play or a movie or read fiction, you suspend your disbelief. At one level, you imagine that what you are seeing is actually happening. That makes the story and the experience more compelling. But you know that it’s a move, play, or novel. The same fiction, if it is touted as a documentary, is a lie. 

It is fun to see a competent magician perform. Their patter is meant to distract you, to misdirect your attention. It is part of the illusion. It is not “evil” because you know it is all part of the show. As an adult, at least, you don’t think that the woman was really sawn in half and then magically healed. It’s a perceptual challenge. It’s meant to be fun. It would be quite different if the magician murdered his assistant by actually sawing them in half! 

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Twelve thousand lies. Twelve thousand lies. Not twelve. Not twelve hundred. Twelve thousand. Each one is a cut to American democracy. Each lie reduces the credibility of America on the international stage. Each lie makes people feel less confidence in government. 

Yes, there are cases where it makes sense for POTUS to lie. Say that a reporter says, “A source tells me that we are going to try to capture Bin Laden on May 2nd (2011) at his compound in Abbottabad around 1 pm local time.” And then, imagine the reporter asks the POTUS at a Press Conference,  “Is that accurate?” 

Let’s further suppose that POTUS knows that this is accurate. Should he say, “Oh, yes, in fact, your source is precisely correct.” No, of course not. 

That is not at all the same quality of lie as it is to lie in a self-aggrandizing way about your abilities, your height, your vote total, whether or not you have Russian help in getting elected. It is not the same as lying that the Mueller report “exonerated” you. 

All lies are not created equal. And one lie or even a dozen lies does not equal 12,000 lies. One cut does not equal 12,000 cuts. One liter of water does not equal 12,000 liters of water. Heating my French Roast in the microwave for 12 seconds does not give the same result as heating it up for 12,000 seconds. No-one would carelessly equate any of these things. 

So, why do the apologists for the POTUS respond to 12,000 public, provable, and important lies by saying, “Well, everyone lies sometimes.” 

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A little is not a lot.  

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Books on Amazon by Author: 

The Winning Weekend Warrior focuses on strategy, tactics, & the mental game for all sports, for business, and for life.

Turing’s Nightmares uses fictional scenarios to explore ethical issues around robotics and AI. 

Fit in Bits suggests numerous ways to fit more fun and exercise into daily activities. 

Tales from an American Childhood recounts early experiences and relates them to contemporary issues and events. 

Cats Eyes Shows her Gift

20 Tuesday Aug 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

learning, legends, myths, politics, ROI, stories, trust, truth, Veritas

Shadow Walker sighed and grimaced and ground his teeth. The more he considered the words of Cat Eyes, the angrier he made himself. Meanwhile, Jaccim drew back, afraid now that his “healer” was about to destroy him instead. The women drew back as well, feeling the tension grow steadily higher. 

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Tu-Swift spoke next. “What is wrong, Shadow Walker? I think you are scaring our patient. And everyone, actually.”

Shadow Walker looked back over his shoulder at Tu-Swift. “Yes. I will talk no more of this right now, but I do want to learn more about — many things. But first, let me finish administering these cooling herbs.” 

Jaccim soon abated his whimpering and seemed to sleep. A large part of Shadow Walker’s brain remained suspicious. He still wasn’t sure he believed the story of Cat Eyes, but if there were another branch of the Veritas, it would extremely desirable to make contact. He motioned everyone to draw away from the sleeping ROI. He gestured for them to sit in a small circle. They obeyed without question and it seemed to Shadow Walker that their immediate compliance wasn’t just because he was a man with a killing sword. It seemed as though these women … expected to obey. He chuckled as he thought about Many Paths or She Who Saves Many Lives “obeying” someone. Well, maybe he could work this to his advantage, he thought. 

Shadow Path looked to Cat Eyes, “Do the other women also speak Veritas?” 

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Cat Eyes shook her head. “No, not really. We’ve all come from different places. We’ve taught each other a few words of each other’s language, but they won’t understand you if you speak that fast. If you ask me to, I can speak what you say in ROI. We all speak that. All of us were stolen at an early age for … well, as I said, as slaves.” 

Shadow Walker shook his head. “I still don’t see. Why steal children? You have to feed them for years before they can do useful work.” 

Cat Eyes stared at Shadow Walker for a long while. Her lip trembled and it seemed to Shadow Walker that she now looked through him to another place and another time. At last, she said, “Early taken; easily shaken; slaves will see: it is their destiny. That’s not a very good translation, but the ROI, and the Z-LOTZ as well, have such a saying. It means that you steal a child early and train them to be a slave and they won’t expect anything different. If you steal a grown man or woman, they will sabotage you when they can, possibly even murder you in your sleep. You have no such danger if you steal a child young enough.”

Shadow Walker glanced at Tu-Swift whose jaw had fallen open. At last, he spoke. “Can this be true? They steal children young just so they can … train them to be slaves with no spirit?” 

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Cat Eyes nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid that is their reasoning. It does’t always work, by the way. Sometimes, even small children learn how to rebel in small ways. But the ROI and Z-LOTZ believe in the wisdom of stealing small children. In fact, it’s even one of the sayings in … well, in this gift I have. Please don’t ask me about how I obtained it, but I wanted to show it to you. I don’t quite understand it, but I think it’s important.” She pointed to a small bag nearby. “Can I show you?” 

“This is not a weapon, I take it?” asked Shadow Walker. 

Cat Eyes laughed a bit. “No, it’s not a weapon. At least, I don’t see how it can be such. But I do not totally understand it.” She strode off a few feet, rummaged through her bag, and brought out a smaller bag which she brought over the circle. From within the smaller bag, she took out a large skin with many markings on it. There were also two smaller skins, also with many markings. In addition to markings, there were several nicely made pictures of different animals. Several small stones also fell out. 

Shadow Walker frowned. He glanced at the others. No-one seemed to understand. “What is this?” 

Cat Eyes shook her head. “I don’t really know. But it is used by the children of the Z-LOTZ to learn ROI and by the ROI to learn Z-LOTZ. I have seen them use this and when they point at this mark, for example, they almost always say the same thing which is not a word but only a part of a word.”

Tu-Swift tilted his head to one side and looked at Cat Eyes. She did have rather intriguing green eyes. “Part of a word? What do you mean?” 

Cat Eyes replied, “You know the creation myth, of course?” 

Tu-Swift humpfed. “Of course!” 

Cat Eyes nodded. “So, you recall the part about taking sounds from different animals. The ‘z’ from the bee and so on. The ‘z’ of the bee is what I mean by part of a word. It doesn’t mean anything till it’s put together with the sounds of other animals or things.” 

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Tu-Swift bent over the markings on the large skin and stared at them in more detail. “What on earth are these drawings of? They all look like firewood that’s been dropped at odd angles. What is this a picture of?” He pointed to one of the many marks.

“I really don’t know, Tu-Swift. I’m really sorry. I was a slave. My job…one of my jobs… was to watch the children of one of the priests of the Z-LOTZ. I watched them play and every so often my master would come in and watch as well. He seemed very pleased when his children would point to these markings and say parts of words. It was one of the most puzzling things I saw in the giant center place of the Z-LOTZ and that was indeed a place of many puzzling things.”

Shadow Walker then said, “Who are these Z-LOTZ and where are they? A giant center place? What do you mean by that?” 

Cat Eyes had been trying to swat away the constant droning questions from her two female friends, but she could ignore them no longer. She quickly spoke in ROI, summarizing for them the conversation thus far. Then, she turned back to Shadow Walker. 

“If our Center Place over Snow Mountain is an acorn, this village you burned down is a seedling. But the Center Place of the Z-LOTZ is a full-sized oak of the forest. I never saw all of it. There is a wall to keep all the slaves inside so we could not escape. It is not too far from here. Perhaps two or three day’s ride.” 

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Tu-Swift and Shadow Walker asked two different questions at the same time. 

Tu-Swift: “Have you ridden a horse?”

Shadow Walker: “Why were you there?”

Cat Eyes looked at one and then the other. “Let me answer Tu-Swift’s question first as it is much easier. No. I never really controlled a horse. I have been tied onto a horse. It is not fun. As for…”

Tu-Swift cut in, “Me too! I agree! I was bruised.” 

Cat Eyes nodded. “Yes. I don’t remember much about how I felt after they stole me. I mean, in terms of bruises. But I was older when the ROI took me to a Z-LOTZ priest for … well, that’s where I found this — which might be a game. I was there to watch smaller children and … learn other things.” 

Shadow Walker could feel that Cat Eyes knew more but something about her time there was deeply troubling. “What can you tell us about the Z-LOTZ and the ROI?” 

Cat Eyes responded, “They have an alliance but they are quite different people. As different from each other as they are from the Veritas — except that both are quite cruel people. I don’t recall a lot from the time before I was stolen, but I know we Veritas were kind people. And you seem kind. The ROI only care about doing everything quickly and making a lot of something. They mainly steal children for the Z-LOTZ. Some, like the three of us, have been used as slaves here as well, usually after…after a time with the Z-LOTZ. The Z-LOTZ — they have elaborate rituals and feasts. They have elaborate myths that everyone is required to repeat word for word. And everyone is supposed to believe them. So far as I can tell, the actual priests of the Z-LOTZ don’t really believe any of it. When my master had other priests and their wives over for feasts, they joked about how they used these myths to control the people. I think, in their view, it wasn’t just the stolen children who were slaves. Everyone was.”

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Tu-Swift listened to this with ever-widening eyes. He found Cat Eyes to be fascinating and believed every word that she uttered. Shadow Walker still had his doubts. 

“If you were a slave, how did you come to find out so much?” asked Shadow Walker.

Cat Eyes frowned. She appeared to be taking this question seriously. At last she said, “I think I found out so much because they treated me as a slave. They didn’t actually think of me as a real person. As for the Z-LOTZ, I also don’t think they realized how much I understood their language. I had already learned a little of their language before I was sent there. The ROI don’t really talk all that much. They rely a lot on sign language — which is not that different from the Veritas. You were able to make yourself understood just now when you convinced them about the medicine.” She paused, and added, “I may be good at learning languages? I don’t know. But some of us — we did things — bad things, I guess. To get back at them. Some of the slaves though.” Here Cat Eyes paused, bit her lip, and a small tear appeared at the corner of her eye. “Some did not recall anything about their homes and they thought…they thought being a slave was just what they were supposed to do. But I remembered that not everyone is cruel. My people…our people were not cruel.” 

As she had said all this in Veritas, the other two women began pelting her with questions in ROI so she turned to them and quickly explained that she was just telling what she knew about the ROI and the Z-LOTZ. 

Then, Cat Eyes turned back and smiled at Tu-Swift. “I am glad you didn’t … I am glad you got rescued, even if you had to burn down our village to do it. When you appeared and I heard some words of Veritas, it gave me hope again.” 

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Shadow Walker shook his head. “I need to say one thing. We did not burn down this village. The ROI did that themselves! They meant to burn our small rescue party up with fire arrows. They shot them behind us into the dry grass and the wind blew the fire toward us and the fire nearly killed us all. I am still not sure whether or not all of the others in our party escaped. But we outran the fire, though we could not see very well as we ran and both Tu-Swift and I were injured. But the fire kept spreading into the forest and on to the village. We don’t use fire arrows. Only the ROI do that. As we know from the Legend of the Orange Man, fire, like hatred, is hard to control, once unleashed.”

Cat Eyes nodded. “I know. That is why…I am not proud of all the things I did against the Z-LOTZ and the ROI. I was only a child. There were so many of them. I could not fight them in the normal way. I used … other methods. Poisons for one. My mother was a medicine woman and I already knew things that she began to teach me when I was very young. I didn’t kill anyone. But I made many of them just slightly sick in some way. Just enough that they would not suspect poison. Sometimes, I would weaken their walls.  And a few times, I put small holes in buckets so some grain would seep out as they carried it thus making a path for the rats to follow to their pantries. I put other irritants in their clothing. I taught some others to do the same. We had to be very careful. But they — we never showed our hatred outwardly. They thought of us…they didn’t really think of us as people and therefore not as enemies from within capable of doing damage. But damage — we did do damage. Anyway, what now? You said some of your party are yet unaccounted for?” 

Shadow Walker found her story amazing, but he was still not convinced. He glanced at Tu-Swift and could see that he, at least, believed every word. 

Shadow Walker said at last, “Thank you for sharing your story. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but Tu-Swift and I need to hold our own small council for a time. I need to go above and do a more thorough search to make sure there are no other ROI around.”

Cat Eyes looked him in the eyes. “Yes. I think most of the ROI escaped and were heading to the giant Center Place of the Z-LOTZ. We hid out here so we wouldn’t be given once again as slaves. I don’t think there are any left behind as guards. Is there anything up there left to guard? It seemed the entire village was about to be destroyed.”

Shadow Walker looked at her face which seemed so open and honest. “Indeed, there is not much left of your village. Nor have the horses returned. But I did meet one ROI on the way here. He tried to kill me — with this — (here he flicked the newly acquired sword) and I was very lucky to have escaped with my life. I have seen no sign of others — yet. One cannot be too careful. We will go and take a look. And, we need to decide on our next steps. We will guard you and search for food. We will talk again when the sun rises.” Shadow Walker stood, bowed, and began to back toward the stairs. 

silhouette of fireman holding hose

Photo by Denniz Futalan on Pexels.com

Cat Eyes bowed back to Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift. “I understand. You would be safer down here I should think. But you do not yet know me well enough to trust me.”

“I trust you!” said Tu-Swift. 

Shadow Walker looked into Cat Eyes. “I mostly trust you. But it’s a lot to take in. We might be safer down here, but is there any other way in or out of this cellar?” 

Cat Eyes shook her head. “No, just those stairs.”

Shadow Walker said, “Well, it would be easy to move heavy things from the armory across the trap-door and make it quite impossible for any of us to leave. We would be trapped down here to slowly die of hunger and thirst.” 

Cat Eyes nodded. “Yes. But maybe then we should all leave? Except, I don’t think Jaccim is well enough. Maybe, in the morning, he will be recovered enough to travel.”

Shadow Walker said, “Yes. We will — do you think you can lend me all this until morning? I would like to contemplate this more.” He gestured at the marked skins. 

Cat Eyes nodded solemnly. “Yes. I hope you can make more sense of it than I could.” She quickly gathered up the skins and stones and put them back in the small bag which she handed to Tu-Swift. She looked him directly in the eyes now, “Sweet dreams. I will see you in the morning. But before you go, do you mind if I take a look at your knee, Tu-Swift?”

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Tu-Swift assented and she began to feel his knee and his entire leg. She massaged it gently and at one point not so gently. Tu-Swift cried out suddenly and Shadow Walker raised his sword. Without taking her eyes off Tu-Swift she addressed Shadow Walker. “I am not going to hurt Tu-Swift. I think his knee will feel better in the morning though. You go and ‘guard us’ as you put it. We will reconvene in the morning if you like. Hopefully, you will not pull heavy things over the trap door and trap us in here to starve slowly.” She then looked up at Shadow Walker and smiled at him. 

Shadow Walker looked at her and said, “No, we will not trap you in here. I did think of that when we first came here, but no.” 

Tu-Swift thanked Cat Eyes, for his knee did feel less … misplaced. Cat Eyes smiled back and again said, “Sweet Dreams.” 

Tu-Swift muttered something and followed Shadow Walker up the stairs. They pulled the heavy trap door over the opening and sat on the ground. Tu-Swift immediately took out the marked skins and the stones and begin looking at them intently. Tu-Swift glanced up to ask Shadow Walker a question but he could see that Shadow Walker felt exhausted. Tu-Swift offered to keep first watch and looked at the marks. 

Hours later, when the Starry Hunter was overhead, Shadow Walker awoke and said he would stand watch for awhile so that Tu-Swift might sleep. He immediately fell into a deep sleep and began a strange and wondrous dream.

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Author Page on Amazon

The Myths of the Veritas, Book One

The Myths of the Veritas, Book Two

The Creation Myth of the Veritas 

A Tale of Two Nannies

13 Tuesday Aug 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

family, life, nanny, parenting, politics, truth

A Tale of Two Nannies. 

Some decisions are difficult. Some are easy. I’ll let you decide for yourself, discerning reader, which kind of decision this one is. 

brown deer

Photo by Jim Fawns on Pexels.com

Briefly, I need a nanny for my kids. One is named, let us say, Donna. The other is named, let us say, Serena. 

I didn’t really know either of them personally, but I find out something about each of them. 

Serena came from a good family. Everyone spoke highly of her and of her family. She had worked at the local library and from my casual observations, seemed to get along quite well with children. She was soft-spoken but assertive and articulate. She was also young and athletic. 

Donna came from a crime family. She swore like a sailor. Many people had accused her of various crimes including theft, tax fraud, insurance fraud, obstruction of justice, and pedophilia. So far, none of these had resulted in her going to jail. 

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By chance, I happened to see her hanging out, joking, and laughing with known drug dealers and murderers.

When I confronted her about the shadiness of her background and acquaintances, she pooh-pooh’d it as nothing but slander by jealous bitches out to steal her God-damned job and I had God-damned better hire her or she was going to sue me and everyone else she could think of!!

So two questions. 

  1. Which one should I choose for the nanny to my kids?
  2. Is this really a hard decision? 

 

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Author Page on Amazon

Myths of the Veritas: Book One

Myths of the Veritas: Book Two

Which wolf do you feed? The “bad” wolf or the “good” wolf? Of course, sometimes, decisions involved complex trade-offs, but sometimes we “know” what the right thing to do is and instead do the convenient or selfish thing.

 

 

Finding the Mustard

12 Monday Aug 2019

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

environment, experiment, Feedback, learning, life, politics, racism, truth

{A departure from the Myths of the Veritas, this is just some thoughts while making dinner}

MustardJar

To the best of my ability, this is the view I had when I was poaching salmon for dinner tonight and realized I had almost forgotten the mustard. I spied it immediately.

Then, (while using the mustard) I began to ponder a blog post from a few weeks ago on the importance of making sure that you looked for “the whole enchilada.” But just now, I relied on a small number of cues and it all worked out fine. What’s the difference?

The difference is that I am looking in my refrigerator for something that I know I have. Even in a large grocery store, there are a limited number of products in jars. But in my fridge? Very few. And, let’s face it; much of modern life is like this. We spend time at work, at home, at the gym, on our commute and we are on familiar ground. We see familiar things. We talk to familiar people. So, all these little algorithms we develop *work* pretty well most of the time.

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But — they do not work very well at all if applied to *new* situations, or *new* places, or *new* knowledge or *new* people. If I were to find myself looking in the refrigerator in Italy or Malaysia and relied on the exact same cues, it would be far less likely to work!

It isn’t so much that these little algorithms or pattern recognitions don’t work. They don’t. But so what? The problem comes when we *assume* or even *insist* that they still work. Mostly, they don’t. So, when you are in different situations, you need to slow down and search & ask for help & think & test. And, if you do, it’s mostly all OK.

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But if you insist that your knowledge *should* work in situations where it does not…you are going to make yourself uncomfortable much more than you need to.

Quite apart from the unfairness that xenophobia wreaks upon “others”, it is sad to me that it prevents so much that is interesting and wonderful about living in the 21st century. We have this *astounding* and *amazing* opportunity to learn from a thousand cultures and peoples. Instead, we are ignoring them, or destroying them, or sometimes incorporating a useful piece of technology.

Left to their own devices, people from different places, cultures, races, etc. can generally work it out. But if a rabble rouser preys on your feelings of discomfort and helps you focus on it, they destroy that natural accommodation and mutual learning. Of course, they are doing it to gain power over you, and they don’t care that they are blinding you to a cornucopia of possibilities.

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Once the flames of hatred are sufficiently fanned, you will never be able to see that “other” as a human being who is fundamentally just like you, but whose ancestors and cultures learned different skills and customs in order to survive. You will never see all that you can learn from each other. You will never see that you have been manipulated into fearing, and hating, and even killing so that someone else can become richer, or more powerful, or be able to flout laws that they don’t like. And that is a very sad thing.


Myths of the Veritas: Book One

Myths of the Veritas: Book Two

Myths of the Veritas: Diversity as a Testament to Our Success as a Species

The Whole Enchilada 

Author Page on Amazon

 

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