Friday, January 20, 2012
Threescore and ten plus years on this planet, watching with dismay of the man’s plunging like Lemmings over the cliff, I have some thoughts to share.
Man is a silly, random, childish, beautiful brute. He is a pure, spiritual being, burdened by baggage of pain and misdirection accumulated over his existence which is eternity, making him reactive and stupid. He does stupid things constantly. Witness the worn stones and dreams of past civilizations, tilted askew in the sands and mud now long abandoned.
Having once attempted a run at politics I learned that politicians must please everyone which is impossible. Attempting this makes him a liar. Then lies become commonplace, and attempting the tricky balance of staying afloat in a sea of pleasing all leads to not really knowing or caring what it true. You have to have a phenomenal memory to be a politician. You have to say one thing in the morning to one group something different to another group in the evening. You learn to talk slick and really never commit, sounding like you are committing while saying with heart what you think they want to hear.
We are witnessing, in January 2012, the pre-selection of a Republican candidate that can beat the democratic president Obama this year. The candidates, in trying to each be positioned for nomination by crushing each other, are providing fodder for Obama in the big final race to come. In my life I have watched this happen several times, but never has so much depended on what happens in 2012.
Perhaps it doesn’t really matter who is elected, for I feel they are all puppets, with strings pulled by the same banker puppeteers. Their masters have pulled down each country under their control until finally they have the big one, the United States, postured to crumble in a few years, having taken over the money, the media, food, energy, shelter and transportation. Their objective is unthinkable. The existing puppets in congress and the high seat have closed their eyes and are diving over the cliff toward oblivion in every policy embraced---bankrupting this great experiment with unimagined velocity. Whether a Republican president can or will do different is questionable. Each will blame the preceding contingent. The previous boy president followed his daddy’s will who was following in turn his orders.
Do you think any of the viable lying candidates will make a difference? Only Ron Paul could. But he would have to get Congress to act to implement his plan, and each of them has sold his or her soul to get and stay in office. I love Ron Paul. He is incredibly honest and my dream president. But “they” will not let this happen. Only a miracle can keep Obama, the most arrogant and flagrantly incompetent president ever, from being re-elected because he has the blacks, Hispanics, democrats, and the media, and many just who love the way he reads a monitor. They do not wish to lose their something for nothing life. Who can blame them? Please, whoever is listening, tell me I am wrong.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Garrison Keillor’s The Writer’s Almanac of today, January 13, 2012, had the following little poem that made me remember my hitchhiking days. When I was growing up in the country in Northwest Louisiana, about 50 miles south of Shreveport (close to Texas border) we either caught a Trailways bus or “caught a ride,” (hitchhiked.). The bus only came through once a day and went to Shreveport or somewhere southeast, so if you wanted to go somewhere you hitchhiked.
There was no danger. There were many on the road with their thumbs hiked in the air wanting a ride. I had many experiences, some great, some terrifying. Like the time my buddy Kenneth Brumley and I caught a ride with a couple of drunks. It was a two door car, and we were sitting in the back and couldn’t get out. He was all over the road and in the ditches driving 100 mph, sometimes sailing in the air, leaving the highway on the crest of a hill like you see in the movies, to crash down with a great bounce after a brief flight. Finally he stopped for gas, and both he and his passenger went into the station. Kenneth and I crawled out of the window and hid until they left. We had been taken many miles out of our way and were relieved just to be alive.
There were queers who reached out and touched my leg and I demanded to be let out then and there---wherever I was, even on a lonely stretch of road. Once a guy showed me a huge roll of hundred dollar bills while driving, then showed me a pistol to prove he was loaded but would blow anybody away that wanted his money. Most of the time it was a nice guy or couple. Caught rides on the back of pickups, or cattle trucks with plenty residue from their erstwhile bovine passengers on the bed of the truck and you took your chances on trying to find a place to sit, and more often than not, black people would be willing to help, needing help themselves most of the time.
We never thought much about hitchhiking. I would catch rides from my little town to Highway 80, which ran north and south from Shreveport all the way to New Orleans, through Baton Rouge, a distance of nearly 300 miles. I did this many times, without a single problem in the fifties.
I was a kid, still a teenager, and until I got a car this was my way of going places by myself. By the way, there were no speed limits on those two lane roads, and driving eighty and ninety was not unusual. No seat belts either or air conditioning. Probably no higher accident rate then than now. Mellow memories. I had a sense of freedom that I had forgotten. Of course, the couple hitchhiking in the poem that follows didn’t involve much freedom for them—it was a different kind of freedom. Then was Janis Joplin’s Me’n Bobby Magee a kind of freedom?. That kind of freedom feels quite wonderful as a memory.LDS
by Charles Simic
After a Walker Evans photograph from the thirties
Hard times brought them out early
On this dreary stretch of road
Carrying a suitcase and a bedroll
With a frying pan tied to it,
The kind you use over a campfire
When a moss-covered log is your pillow.
He's hopeful and she's ashamed
To be asking a stranger to take them
Away from here in a cloud of flying
Gravel and dust, past leafless trees
With their snarled and pointy little twigs.
A man and a woman catching a ride
To where water tastes like cherry wine.
She'll work as a maid or a waitress,
He'll pump gas or rob banks.
They'll buy a car as big as a hearse
To make their fast getaway,
Not forgetting to stop for you, mister,
If you are down on your luck yourself.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
The weakness of our country, which at one time was its strength, was flinging open our doors to everyone. “Give me your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free,” are the shining words at the foot of the lady whose torch held aloft is still a beacon for all to come and share the bounty of our land of plenty.
The diversity of all the lands coming to our shores enriched our culture and our economy. It is the answer to anyone wishing to be free and being a part of the great mixture of peoples we call America. But there is a downside.
“The reason a democracy or any wide-open group caves in lies in its extending its privileges of membership to those who seek to destroy it.”
“The idiocy of doing so is plain. When a person announces he is no longer a part of the group, he has rejected the group. He has also rejected its codes and rules. Of course he has also rejected the protection to which he was entitled as a group member.”
HCO Policy Letter, 17 March 65, Issue IV, HCO Div 1, Justice. Organizational Suppressive Acts. L Ron Hubbard.
I think this is the paradox of any experiment in democracy, an attempt to let the people govern themselves. We hold the door wide for anyone to enter and allow them the vote, the give-away programs, education, health, with no input. Yet tax the productive. What is the answer?
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
We Americans are feeling the wrenching disorientation wrought of change. Change is upon us. At the age of 77, born at the end of the depression, having lived through three wars, I have been fortunate to have had the best that America had to offer in this great experiment in democracy.
The white man, through being much more vigorous and aggressive because of having his blood origin in the cold climes of northern Europe, dominated the planet for generations. His blood has thinned and he, like the Romans before him, has weakened morally and spiritually. He now hasn’t the will to maintain dominance. Rome was sacked because Rome simply had rotted from within and their indolent senate died in their seats. Greece and Rome lasted hundreds of years. The great civilizations of the east in China, simply continued, ponderous with people, and are becoming the survivors because of sheer dominance in numbers.
We have come to this teetering point less than 300 years since our valiant overthrow of the yoke of English tyranny. Those men who signed the Declaration of Independence risked everything. Without the intercession of the French we would have lost, and they were involved to weaken England, their dire enemy. Immediately thereafter they had their own revolution which changed everything there.
We are in a crisis we cannot conceive as real, for we are living in a surreal world of false economy, having elected enemies of our own basic philosophy as leaders. It seems that we are just holding our collective breaths, for that last precious bit of air, before we all drown. We are like bewildered children---lost---without direction, trying to find a real voice, a real leader who can fight through the tangled thicket of laws and political commitment to the light of day, who has the moral strength to confront and win back our self respect and future that seems to be dissolving before our very eyes. He or she is there, somewhere.
Is this really happening? It is like dream, a creepy dream. We see all the assorted pieces of the jigsaw puzzle, and separately they don't make sense--the trillions, the bail outs, the corrupt cronies, George Soros et al, immigration, Muslim incursion, the "the where the hell did he come from President," and they are not so ignorable, but ignored like a very unpleasant smell. Put them together and it all comes crystal clear. There is a reeking stench that violates all sense of goodness and propriety. It was all planned. In politics, like Wall Street, it is all planned. Nothing is coincidental.
We are beset in every direction because of a sold out leadership—puppets of those who would have America become at one with the rest of the world—under their control. A planned invasion of Mexicans from the south, illegally crossing our borders, taking jobs of working Americans for pennies a day, getting governmental benefits paid by taxes of working Americans, reproducing children who under the law of “jus soli" are American citizens, all to become voters who will support a regime willing to bankrupt our country to support them for their votes. Minorities within who do the same. A rabid, alien, Muslim culture integrating itself within with a declared intention to destroy America. A Muslim president, mysteriously placed into office out of nowhere (now clearly a pawn of people like George Soros---whose record of destroying nations is clear) whose skin color and professed philosophy galvanizes and coalesces all those who want something for nothing into a tighter voting block than ever; whose philosophy of tax the rich (productive) and give to the non productive fits the very scheme that has destroyed Greece, Rome and every other strong civilization.
Destroy the US from within by bankruptcy, and thus goes the rest of the planet into turmoil. America has become the planetary power, and though it is clear there has been anything but peace during her reign (wars are created by those who benefit and those controlling the money benefit—the bankers primarily) she has held out her hand of freedom for those who wish to come and play by our rules until the Mexican invasion.
Who will win? What will become of America? Will America, Canada and Mexico become one? Europe will dissolve into one and Asia into one, creating three great interplanetary powers, all led by someone. Some hidden leader, (tyrant of incredible power) or maybe not so hidden. There is no place to hide even now. Google has a picture of your house, a whole profile on everyone on the planet. You can be located by satellite at any time. Implanted chips will be the final end of man’s independence, will and freedom.
He tried, but is now an anemic, frail mockery of our forefathers and their will for a free America. How can we keep our integrity, our personal freedom, our ability to choose direction and life? It has disappeared during my short span on this small, but beautiful, planet. History shows great societies have always greedily destroyed themselves by the immorality of the dominant species. Over and over. The mysterious standing stones in the deserts and jungles profess to his huge ability to create, and his ability to destroy, and to his inevitable demise.
I am a dedicated Scientologist. I know we are spiritual beings, having meat bodies with limited lives we use for transport and communication. We are basically good, beautiful, immortal, creative beings. But we are stupid. We were put here because we were geniuses (stupid ones), miscreants, psychopaths, artists, and political dissidents. We didn’t fit and had to be disposed of. Dropped here, given amnesia implants (we really can remember but it is too painful to remember), and we spend our days trying to figure out what the hell is going on---developing philosophies, religions, to explain it. Never one that really explains, just requires leaps of faith.
We have tools to recover our basic abilities, our basic happiness, without any need for “faith in” or belief beyond knowing this is the way once it becomes clear. It became clear to me instantly once I saw the truth of it. Some take longer. No matter, the truth is there to be had by anyone, anywhere, of any faith, color, or religious conviction.
Thus we are attacked by those who wish to keep mankind in the dark, unenlightened as to man’s own spiritual power and ability. We are growing and have a huge hill to climb against those who wish to destroy us and control minds through drugs, fear or political estrangement. (Psychiatrists and drug companies—financed by those who eventually benefit from mental enslavement.) Those with low confront of evil will snort and say this is rubbish. Believe me, there is evil, and it is not “the devil.” There are a fraction (2%) of the population who are so terrified of others, who have learned how to look and act like others and have disappeared in the fabric of society, they will destroy everything around them. They are hard to spot, but everything around them is in a turmoil. Those they influence look crazy. They are usually the last ones you will spot. They are cowards, who use your power, for they have none. They are thus dangerous. We elect them to office, chairmen of boards, or they sit by the fire knitting while their family is in chaos. You need to learn to spot them. We have the means to do this.
We can win, but we must stand tall and do more than sit on our asses knowing we are the only way out of this prison planet. I solicit, and even dare, any man or woman who professes to be searching for answers to honestly take a look. Open your mind and see. Go to the source. There is much disinformation abroad. See for yourself. Think for yourself. You can help save us all by first finding the road out. It is this one. I know of no other on this planet.
Monday, August 22, 2011
I attended a talk by Ray Bradbury at LSU in the late nineties. Knowing he would be swamped afterwards, I ran backstage before anyone got to him and had some pictures made with him, including this one.
His family moved to Hollywood when he was around ten years old, and he started selling postcards and maps to homes of the stars. He spotted W.C. Fields standing on the corner waiting for a ride, so he asked him for his autograph. Fields scratched his name on the little piece of paper, held it for a moment before giving it to Bradbury, then scowled over his cigar and said, “There you go, you little sonofabitch.” From the way he described it, I know he thinks about it often. It’s like a stuck picture that he muses over—for it is funny as hell to me. His telling of it leaves me with a picture of an irascible old sonofabitch himself who somehow became a star and gave Bradbury an indelible impression of this as a highlight event.
I have used this as an example in giving talks on Affinity, Reality and Communication, and how we must take responsibility for our communication because of the everlasting results of what we say and do.
The following is today’s offering by The Writer’s Almanac, by Garrison Keillor, of The Prairie Home Companion.
It's the birthday of science fiction writer Ray Bradbury (books by this author), born in Waukegan, Illinois (1920). He's the author of many books of science fiction, including The Martian Chronicles (1950) and Fahrenheit 451 (1953). One of his ancestors, Mary Bradbury, was burned as a witch in Salem, Massachusetts, and he said he got from her his anxiety about fearmongering and thought control. He said, "Science fiction is a wonderful hammer; I intend to use it when and if necessary, to bark a few shins or knock a few heads, in order to make people leave people alone." He told Paris Review, "I prefer to see myself as the Janus, the two-faced god who is half Pollyanna and half Cassandra, warning of the future and perhaps living too much in the past — a combination of both." He didn't go to college, because the family couldn't afford it, but he did go to libraries ... at least three times a week for 10 years. He wrote Fahrenheit 451 on a rented typewriter in the basement of UCLA's Powell Library.
As a boy, he read Edgar Allan Poe and The Wizard of Oz. And when he was 12, a traveling carnival came to town, and he met a magician named Mr. Electrico, who believed young Ray was the reincarnation of a friend who had died in his arms in World War I. Later, at the show, Mr. Electrico touched people in the front row with his electrically charged sword, making their hair stand on end. "When he came to me, he touched me on the brow, and on the nose, and on the chin, and he said to me, in a whisper, 'Live forever.' And I decided to."
Sunday, August 21, 2011
My Dear Friends:
Dr. Tom Smith, one of those old time "real" healers, was our family doctor. He was always saying "you are what you eat." He went no further than that, but would have if we would have asked him what he meant. This was in the fifties, before GMO and adulteration of our food supply by pesticides, herbicides, growth enzymes in our meats, etc.
I called this blog "sick and dying R US," because that is what we Americans are.
I decided to learn about enzymes today, and watched this clear explanation of enzymes and how absolutely essential that we know about them and how they affect health.
In a nutshell, enzymes are chemical elements in foods that make what we eat useable by the body. They also can be used to make foods, such as cheese, wines, beers, and even to process such as curing leather and are the catalysts that nature supplies to transform substances into useable substances.
They are vital to every aspect of health, and account for ability to ward off heart attacks, cancer, ulcers, immunity problems, and most diseases and body problems. By the time a person reaches 70, the body produces 1/3 of the necessary enzymes needed to properly use foods we eat--add this to the additives for storage, color and increased production and we have a problem. Orange juice, with the container saying pure juice, not from concentrate. This juice has been stored in huge containers, with all oxygen removed, with fructose and sugar added. Each 8 oz glass contains the equivalent of 8 teaspoons of sugar. More than a coke. You are in trouble if you think you are helping the health of your kids by giving them other than fresh squeezed orange juice. These food additives for shelf life, taste and color account for the obesity in the US. Go to a cafeteria, Chinese all you can eat, Walmart, or wherever, and try not to ignore the disgusting Americans who can barely move, who simply know no better.
I went to Europe with my son Tom in 2003---I was shocked at the difference between the bodies of the Europeans and Americans--The Italians and French were trim, graceful and athletic compared to the wallowing obesity of most American tourists. Some English and German were also fat, but nothing like Americans.
At my age, I am concerned about feeling good, feeling energetic and pain free. I assure you the mid seventies have pain, stiffness, and digestive and other problems unless there is exercise and proper food.
Where do you get enzymes? Raw vegetables. Juice them, just eat them, or cop out and buy supplements. I am going to start using my juicer. It is a little more complex doing this, and cleaning it after, but I am going to keep it out on my counter and use it to make a two day supply. I want to feel good, still be hard and stay hard, in every way. Crawling out of bed in pain every morning before I walk the stiffness in my back off only gets worse with time, and I can imagine how it must be for those fatties who look like they have live animals in their clothes as they walk, and struggle to get up from sitting positions. It is enzymes, fructose, exercise (don't need much) and additives.
Watch these videos (the first one and the one on orange juice) and get smart.
I have to thank Mercola for keeping us informed. Why don't they have a required course in school beginning in lower grades with this subject, making it simple, with videos like this. The problem with most of these "instructional" courses, are they are too complex, giving misunderstoods, not going basic enough. This could easily handle America's stupidity.