Wager With Lucifer

Recreating (and advancing) pk’s censored domains:
Teaching / Social Order … DeCentralization / Deschooling /

Keywords information, records, central, God, Lucifer, wager”/> Macroinformation.org & Knatz.com / Teaching / Society / NoHier / DDD / Modules / Decentralization /
Miscellaneous Deschooling Rants

God’s Wager With Lucifer

Before I weave my candidate myth, let me share my initial aim (who knows where the writing actually ends up?): HL Mencken said “… democracy is based upon so childish a complex of fallacies that they must be protected by a rigid system of taboos, else even half-wits would argue it to pieces.” Without compulsory schooling any twelve year old ought to be able to refute the assumption that centralized information management is always necessary. But, could that same twelve year old, older and graduating from school, still do so?) That’s why civilization must train us only to listen to the civilized. The wild child won’t get it because the wild child isn’t social: but any caveman should be able to see through the pretences of any forged-literate in schools. Centralized information management may gain short term goals, but the big picture gets messier and messier as it does so.

Shall we pay the piper now? or later: when no amount of payment will suffice?
(School’s purpose is to identify the potential refuters, to isolate them, make sure that no one listens to them … soo easy in a social primate species.)

God’s messages are constant; but the damned won’t hear them.

(1970, when I offered a free information system, may not have been too late, but it’s no longer 1970.)
Ah: I extend my preface to add that my target needs more than one coordinate. Having referenced Mencken, I must also reference Arthur C. Clarke: specifically his story The Billion Names of God. (My memory of the title comes close enough for now: I can verify it another time.) Bunch of Tibetan monks save their coppers till they have the millions needed to buy a main frame computer. The monks believe that the universe exists for the purpose of uttering the many names of God, that the universe will cease to exist once the complete taxon has been uttered. (Then the cosmos may express itself in whatever comes next: after universe.) For many centuries the monks have busied themselves guessing at and uttering possible names for God. They’ve decided that a super computer will conclude their quest the sooner. (Tibetan Buddhism isn’t a big fan of life going on and on: all that pain.)

Some scientist hears about the plan and, alarmed, races to Tibet. He’s climbing the Himalayas just in time to notice the stars begin, one after another, to wink out.

Cosmology and theology are inseparable in my mind (liberated theology, theology liberated from dogma, from superstition) (Is that possible?)). It seems that Clarke thought something similar before most of the rest of us could think at all. Anyway, my target would imagine a wedding of cosmology, theology, and refutation of axioms.

God’s and Lucifer’s Wager

God and Lucifer were once very close. I mean close like roommates at a male boarding school, if you follow me: close like they were married. They’re still close: but at longer than arm’s reach. They’re both software programers, albeit at opposite ends of town, and the one sure thing that will make one give the other a call, a challenge, is if he thinks he’s written (or can write) a bit of software that will prove some point odious to the old competitor/companion.
Almost every calamity in the history of the universe they once made together on a lark has been a direct result of their bets against each other. You see, any of their wagers necessitates the proviso that the opposite party may interfere with the new code, but only in certain limited ways. If God makes a sun, Lucifer may not unmake the sun; but he can write some subroutine from which may emerge sun spots. Lucifer may make some perpetual motion homunculus, but God can crab his motion with the ague. You can’t take Barry Bonds out of the other guy’s line up, but you can encourage Bonds to make errors.

See? DNA: there’s an actual illustration. Both parties were surprised in that one once some of the errors produced forms more interesting than those made without such errors. (Nowadays no one can get the truth out of either of them as to which of them made the DNA and which of them then made the errors.) (In fact, I’ve heard each of them claim that the errors had been the whole point all along.)

much more to do here but I post my beginning while other obligations call

A tip of the hat to Denis Wood (Five Billion Years of Global Change: A History of the Land [NY 2004]) for his they used to be married perception.

2006 07 04 And a salute to LiveScience.com for its wonderful Top 10 Creation Myths.
(One of the best, most engrossing, can’t-stop-clicking-the-next-link, web sites.)

DeCentral Menu DeGate! Deschool Menu
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Feminism Scrapbook

/ Scholarship /

I started a post on The Ascent of Woman, Dr. Amanda Foreman. Almost instantly it was a shambles: so many things clamoring for inclusion, correction, expansion: bravos for Foreman, and boos: for her and for all of us. I went through more than three drafts before I’d properly done one draft just of opening remarks! That’s what I get for writing while in my first reading. Now I’ve seen the four episodes of the Ascent show: next assay I may be writing on a more stable pony.

I start again but expand to related materials.

I like Foreman’s doc, I expect to watch it several times. In particular I’m grateful for the dozen or several significant women she mentions.

The Missing Women of History
I’ll gather a list, profile the members later.

Olympe de Gouges
Alexandra Kollontai

Margaret Sanger

Confession

I’ll also include at least one confession: I was prepared to soft-pedal Sanger’s contribution to the creation of the birth control pill. No, no: male stupidity, prejudice: it’s her baby, she conceived it, birthed it: the rest of us didn’t even realize we were dragging our feet. Typical.

But initially I’d wanted to ride one of my usual hobbyhorses: the role the ever-changing “Bible” plays in revising Christianity back to ancient misogyny. Churches present the Bible as an authority, Christians present themselves as enlighted, inspired, and good: good morally. No, no, all false. I’ll explain, in some detail, but first I write over the earlier post, then correct, add, adit.

Trivia

Even I, living in the dark. had heard of Pussy Riot. The name struck me wrong, not least because I pride myself on my liberal use of vulgar terms. James Bond and his Pussy Galore should be booed, I with my ubiquitous pussy and quim etc. should be applauded, and funded, these Moscow girls … ? Shrug. No. Now I’ve seen them performing: ugh, and talking: ooo, beaustiful. I love these girls. I’d send them a dollar: if I have two dollars.

And I’ll spill some stories while here.

Bryant Park Pimp

Hilary and I were at Herman’s sporting goods stores on 42nd Street, drooling over the skis. I would have been 1970 or so. I would have founded FLEX. Before going home we visited Bryant Park, over toward the library at 5th Avenue: womens’ libbers were supposed to speak. I was impatient with all that since FLEX wanted everyone, not just women, to be free, not just blacks, and offered the mechanism to make freedom possible: cybernetic data bases for public use, no supervision. Anyway, sure enough, the speeches were commencing: and one guy, young black, already lit on wine or something, was rudely pretending that he was a pimp and that all the speakers were his girls. They didn’t want to be property; he was pretending they were his property!

Around that some time I attended a party for Hilary’s boss at the Barnard Library. All those women were ignoring FLEX, ignoring me, while they marched around in fashionable boots, to their knees. Jackie K shopped on 5th Avenue dressed like Che’! None of them qualified for consciousness.

Scholarship

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Monthly

Monthly: scrapbook: reborn each month
(Monthly Note follows below)

If I make a vow to God and then Caesar demands a conflicting vow from me, to whom do I owe what?
I make vows to Christ, but then Christ goes and changes nature on me.
If we think that slavery is wrong but make intelligent discussion impossible, over centuries, over millennia, what understanding do we owe to Jesus?
Can the Christian who believes that God hates slavery interrupt or overrule the Christian who thinks that the Bible condones slavery? How about the Christian who thinks that God demands slavery?

If I vow to the king that I will support his monarchy with my life, and then the king accepts campaign millions from the slavers, and I have to write the speeches …?

Look at it this way: in this and that theology vows to God can’t be trumped by vows to Trump. If God tells me not to murder, at least that what I and others familiar with writings called the Bible think God commands, but the US army in colusion with a civilian draft board conscripts me and tells me to drop bombs on Afghanistan, what do I do? punt?

Here’s a real example: When Catherine turned 96 it was fairly clear that her life was over: she was blind, deaf, didn’t know who I was half the time, refused to take her vitamins any longer: the same vitamins she’s sworn by when I first recommended them to her, I called Hospice to familiarize myself with their routines. They sent a nurse once the doctor pronounced Catherine terminal: doc was right, she only lived another few months. Anyway I’d gone over the Living Will document with Catherine, she was clear: she was an atheist, she didn’t want anyone praying over her. I was not an atheist, not a normal atheist at least, but she never understood or cared to try to understand what I believed, or had done, or had said, or written. Folderol, Catherine didn’t want anybody praying over her, I pointed out her instructions to the Hospice nurse when she came. I pointed out where I had Catherine’s Living Will tacked up by the door if there was any question. I come into the bedroom, the nurse is telling Catherine that she’s praying for her, and advising Catherine to pray for herself.
Fortunately this imbecile nurse has no comprehendion with Catherine is deaf and hasn’t understood a word the nurse has said. But I take the nurse aside, I tell her that she has violated all civilized codes of behavior, she is in violation of secular principles not to enforce any particular religion. The nurse says, No, prayer is good, God is good: Catherine’s wishes have no standing, the nurse has no obligation to her office, only to her illiterate church.

OK, all that should be clear enough, never mind that maybe if I weren’t going blind myself, maybe if my own mind were holding up I could discuss the jurist points better.
Note, this is a land of choise, and Highlands County gave me a choice: if I didn’t like this nurse I could request a nurse from the competing company. If I didn’t like that nurse we were shit out of luck, there were only two companies: neither company had any understanding of secular vows. they knew that if the nurse tried to poison us I could call the police, but what could I do if the nurse refused to acknowledge her pledges, whose church taught adherence not to your vows but to its vows?

Anyway, here are a couple of analogies:
Half a year ago or so last year’s presidential election was cresting in the news. Jan was all Trump-escited. Jan, my darling, wanted to share Tump news with me. I don’t care what it is, I don’t want to hear it. Jan would tell me the Trump news. I would remind her, I didn’t want to hear it, please, spare me. She would misstate my prefernece, and give me the next moment’s Trump news. I love her, but there’s no communicating with her: not on the things culturally most important to me. She says, Well, I’m not interested; No, no: I very interested, my life is dedicated to interest; I just don’t want to hear reports from the media: reports from the earth are bad enough.
So: Jan has no more respect for preferences other than Trump dominance than Catherine’s nurse had for her nurse vows: to respect the wishes of the dying.

More to add, I’ll return.

ISIS
2017 02 11 I don’t get it. Do you? Does anyone?
I don’t believe that the Middle East was any business of the Crusaders: I certainly don’t see it as my business, or your business, or the President’s business. I don’t believe that government, this or another, is capable of understanding Islamic states: or non-Islamic states.
Could Islamic states be a threat to us? I don’t doubt it, but so what? everything, anything might be a threat to us. But having invaded America from Europe, etc. what right do we have to security?
(In Elizabethan times, in Elizabethan English, “secure” meant naive, ignorant, even stupid.)

If I think you might mug me, I might think that I have a right to disarm you, kill you, stop you. And visaversa.
If I don’t trust you, or me, or Washington, or Iraq, does it follow that I have a right, or you, to extirminate humans? How about bears? sharks?

I’m 78 1/2. I spent the early 1940s worrying about Hitler and the latter 1940s worrying about A-bombs, and H-bombs. I didn’t trust MacCarthy. And I didn’t trust Ike. I didn’t trust Stalin, but Stalin, not yet, hadn’t infaded my neighborhood, except with ideas. with fear.

But you know, it doesn’t mater. Nature will get rid of what doesn’t work. Meantime we have the right to shellac each other, drop bombs, tell lies, compel school.

Now the White House can try to intimidate us to buy a blouse from Ivanka.

Good solutions have been proposed, but as always, we torture and kill the idea bearers.If MacCarthy didn’t understand what I now imagine I would have said had I been an adult in 1952, and Kennedy didn’t understand what I said in 1960, I certainly don’t expect Trump, or you, to understand what I’ve said here.

OK, I watched a bit more of the ISIS doc. The subject is now perhaps a bit less occluded to me. And I’ thinking of Hemingway, off driving an ambulance in Spain. Everybody is this ISIS movie also seems to be looking for fights. Maybe I should have too. Can I sue the church that christened me as an infant? Aren’t they responsible for subverting human nature? I see beautiful Arab women among the fighters: that might be nice to carry an assault rifle with a female hip in your face. Maybe that’s what I should do now, especially now that I’m half blind and really can’t tell friend from foe. I march up to the bunker, they blow me to hell and gone, then I don’t need a new prescription.

Fierce Female
The Arab teen girls, one of whom had been shot six times! Dance before their attack on the mountain hold. I’m reminded of a photo of an Israeli fighter in National Geographic, some magazine: in the ’50s, maybe early ’60s. Buxom, beautiful, smiling, rippling, unforgetable. Had I been brought up in Israel, on a kibbutz, cheating, land theft, murder an everyday occurrence I maybe would never have read my own version of Jesus, and God, and peace the way I did in my actual childhood in Brooklyn and Rockville Centre. I did what I did, got what I got: could have been better, could easily have been worse. No, no. No complaints.

Trump’s Ban
2017 02 01 I relate to predation, I am a predator. (And so are you.) And vegetarians are kleptocrats, no matter what displays they make about what they do and don’t eat.) I also relate to Turn the Other Cheek, and to Jesus’ sacrifice. I’ve sacrificed myself, again and again, in imitation: and the rest of the human world pretends not to notice: and such pretenses become true, by virtue of pretense.

I worshipped democracy as a child, as I was lead to do. Then, in recent decades, I turned on it, openly despise it, never mind majorities, nevr mind human opinions. I am punished by my neighbors who still pretend. What I can’t stand is a population of hypocrites who grab land but pretend they’re sacrificing on the cross, who do what they’re told by the alpha kleptocrats but pretend they’re acting in free will.

I love the Conn Iggulden novel where young Genghis, not yet Khan, gets captured, gets into his father’s murderer’s tent, grabs a sword and kills the killer! And then … And then nothing! He’s received as the khan. Someday he’ll do something, and then they’ll rip his flesh off, eat him while his heart is still beating. Genghis didn’t assassinate the khan to become kahn; he was merely being a Mongol: killing, expecting death, accepting it.
Then they’re the wonder story by Piers Anthony where the sadist torturer is sent to the planet of torture. After they’ve done Everything to him he waits for what’s next and nothing happens! He’s now their Stalin, they’re dictotor: he endured the torture, now he’s boss. He’s got no eyes, no ears, no teeth, no fingers, no balls, but he’s boss.

Anyway, I didn’t get Trump during the election process, now I really don’t get him: an executive “order” to cease immigration? We came, we tresspased: where do we get off saying what tresspasses others can commit? If we’re going to enforce rules, shouldn’t we ourselves be innocent of infractions?
Had the natives stopped us ff. 1492, if Crazy Horse had attacked Washington DC and defeated Custer there, I would understand it, I would see us seeing that we lost, that they therefore have all the rights.

Alpha crime isn’t crime.

I hope you all saw the recent article on chimps slaying an alpha chimp who had been their tyrant. Italians playing football with Il Duce’s head is one of my favorite images from modern history. I recommed that Trump and Nixon and Obama and Bush familiarize themselves with the King of the Wood: whoever kills the king is king: till his successor kills him!!!

Alpha Chimp
continues: Yanking the alpha chimp off his throne, flaying him, eating parts reminds me. One of the reporters mentioned that the dead tyrant may have been trying to reclaim former status. Imagine Nixon trying to walk back into the White House after being evicted. Imagine Nixon back in the oval office, giving orders to Ford’s secretary. And I think: Hey, what might such patterns have to do with civilization’s most famous murder? What if the Temple of Jerusalem had deposed God, stripped and beaten him: now the Sanhedrin had the power but was brandishing it in God’s old name? So what if God sent Jesus to reclaim what he regarded as his?? And what if the Sanhedrin convinced Pilat that Jesus was about to take over from Caesar too?
In his dreams? Maybe, but Pilat wouldn’t pull punches if he saw his own palace slipping away.

I love that: Christianity as a dream of reclaiming lost status, rank, privilege.

VA Stats
2017 02 01 VA email says “Did you know that 1 in 3 women die of heart disease and stroke each year?” What? Preposterous. What could they mean that we could generously guess? Maybe one of three women who die die of heart disease. That I don’t doubt; but the death rate is not 33.3% of the populaltion. It may come to be, but not now, not yet.

Mea deGrasse Culpa
Neil deGrasse Tyson refers to the “moving frontier of science” in his Inexplicable Universe. Bravo Tyson.
I take this occasion to Tyson’s sudden elevation in status in pk’s mental map of human resources. Tyson rubbed me the wrong way when I first saw him. I avoided him thereafter: a bitter disappointment to me: I like looking up better than looking down. Admiration, worship seems natural to me. I’ve read the science explainers – Asiomov, Sagan, Calder, Attenborough – for decades, have watched them on TV since Attenborough first followed his BBC Civilization with Life on Earth, wrote admiration to Sagan when Cosmos was just an announced plan. Muddlers like George Page made me puke, enlighteners like Attenborough made me Whoop.
So. I eagerly watched the first Tyson I heard of: and cringed. His style seemed retarded. Now I’m used to it, or he’s perfected it, I digest it. Brovo. Back to elevation, pejoration kaput.

Metaphysical Uncertainty: things I wondered about in college, come back to me, answered, at 78 1/2:
Given one particle, could God deduce the rest of the universe? No: part, yes, but not all. Therefore: omnipotence is impossible, not just for me, for Newton, but for God too. If logic applies to reality. If it doesn’t, if all is magic, nothing has to make sense. But talk is pretty much useless either way.

Fat Suit Deception
http://www.viralthread.com/woman-pretends-fat-tinder-dates-guys-respond-like/
Girl make date via dating service, shows up wearing a fat suit. If she knows the guys who show up, it’s a practical joke, it’s up to the guys if they want to sock her in the eye. But to practice such decption on strangers, to let them walk out, betrayed, and not explain to them that they’ve been had, immorally for sure, probably illegally too, fat suit should go straight off to jail, or at least to the civil suit justice department. Boo, false fat. It’s fraud.

Nobel Westbrook
2017 01 21 Russell Westbrook got snubbed for the All Star starting guards. Always remember: Leo Tolstoy didn’t get a Nobel Prize for literature! and neither did Isak Dinesen! So if they didn’t get one, what can that prize be worth? It’s not that Faulkner isn’t also good, Hemingway, etc; but nobody is better than Tolstoy! Unless it’s Isak Dinesen!

2017 01 19 Gotta address: the inauguration, authority, sovereignty, God, Trump, US …

2017 01 04 My neighbor Elaine Sutphin snapped my wrinkly pic!

pk by gardenia

pk by gardenia

Reason Derailed]
2016 12 24 I’m watching Good Night and Good Luck, Edward R. Murrow vs. McCarthy, vs. J. Edgar: civilization vs. honesty. US establishment is throwing its weight around, calling everybody a Communist, all unconsciounable behavior at best, now the networks are administering loyalty oaths, threatening unemployment, unemployability: only the dishonest need apply. Meantime our institutions, though they see that they’ve been threatened don’t see that they’ve been undermined. But this should surprise no one. Priests in the church get things exactly backwards, they think they represent God, that the Bible is an example of truth, not lies, not at best mistakes mistakes: CBS staff actually believes that yesterday they were clean, today they’re pressured, they have till tomorrow to decide … No, no, it was all decided long ago. Jesus wasn’t the first victim, merely the most famous.

I lived through all of that: the school, the press, the public, standing up for McCarthy, abandoning Christianity, civil values, feeling virtuous as we mislabeled everything. And now we think that there were only a few bad apples, that we survived it. We didn’t. We didn’t survive. Or we changed identity: the evil survived, grew, transformed.

Literal, Symbolic
2016 12 19 Do you believe in God? That’s a common questions, is it not? How common is it for the person or group asking the question to be willing (or competent) to define terms, to allow you to be clear? Unheard of, never.
“God” is, among other things, a trigger that guarantees that emotion will overwhelm reason before anything can be made half-clear.
But never mind that: I have a different question to focus on: how literal is your (or the group’s) understanding of the terms?
For example, you can not believe that Jesus is an historical figure, you can not believe that the gospels can be examined with normal reading skills, but still believe that a good man, an unorthodox teacher, someone whose life and teachings stimulated thought got sandbagged by the establishment. You can believe that the justice system, though it might honorably and truly find you guilty of speeding would prove utterly incapable of fairly judging the rebel who turned over the money tables in the temple when the frauds running those tables were cheating the poor: and God, the supposed recipient of the sacrifices. In other words, the symbol doesn’t have be be believed in literally to be believed in symbolically.
Never mind whether I believe in God. Never mind whether I believe in Jesus. Never mind whether I believe that Jesus can reasonably be distinguished from Christ. What I do believe in is human failure; what I don’t believe in is the kleptocratic institutions of civilization:
the institutions that use coercion.
If the school is compulsory it doesn’t matter what its victims believe: or think that they think.

Continues as reverse chronology: Monthly Archive

Such archives date backwards: counter chronological: today, yesterday, the day before …

Posted in pk Personal, pk Teaching | Tagged

Anti-Semitism Scrapbook

Follows from Anti-Semitism

Korkoro

Good movie on the related subject of Nazis chasing gypsies around southern France in the early 1940s.
I’m reminded of Gerald, my friend Anton’s friend. He spent WWII as a Jewish boy passed from farm to farm in south France, narrowly escaping the scrutiny of the Nazis. I don’t know Gerald that well, but he seems to have turned out OK: a professor at Holy Cross, last I knew.

I’ve called myself “the voluntary n-” for decades: I could have said voluntry “Jew”: – “chink”, anything like that.

Ike, Patton
2015 07 20 I consider myself a gourmet of hypocrisy, a non-pareil misanthrope, but watching The Long Way Home I feel amateur, like a beginner: stuff even I didn’t know: though it doesn’t surprise me. Hard to take, self-lashing: I’m sipping this Holocaust documentary a minute here, a few minutes there.

The Allies come upon the death camps. The soldiers stand outside the barbed wire and stare, the Jews penned within do their own staring. Weeks, months, years later: the allied soldiers still hold the Jews in the pens: still malnourished, still no sanitation. Ike visits, Ike tells Patton to treat them better: and ease up on the guards. Patton writes in his diary that Ike is wrong: letting the Jews escape, to return to society would be a mistake: the Jews, Patton noted, are not human, sub-human, sub-animal: “clearly” Patton wrote.

Clearly? Something is clear?! Then how come there’s so much disagreement?

Boy, have I seen some good Anti-Semitism WWII movies the last few years.

Note: Ike, Patton don’t question their “right” to order the earth, don’t doubt their competence, their judgment, don’t question their knowledge. I say, leave it all alone, and mere survival will in its own time prove suitability, fitness, competence.

Trumping Patton
2017 01 29 Trump’s White House issued a Holocaust Memorial statement that didn’t mention the Jews! And Didn’t Mention Anti-Semitism!!!
One of my perennial jokes these decades has been to grouse about Jews pushing to remember Jews killed: there were also gypsies, Commies, dissidents, anarchists (my own non-group “group”) I meant the joke; but I never meant to follow suit with Patton. That’s a good comparison: Patton and Trump! (and of course Hitler, etc.)

Fiat Israel
For decades I’ve been tempted by Zionist feelings: wish I could have worked to help Brichah (the Flight). On the other hand I’ve always been repelled by the politics of “Israel”: fiated, created out of nothing, by magic. Sure it would be nice if the Jews had a nice homeland. It would be nice if God would create one for them, ex nihilo: maybe manage a land fill in the Pacific, maybe convert an asteroid. What I hate about the real Israel is that it was authoritarian, kleptocratic, all the way: Britain etc. “gave” Israel to the Jews, but they were giving Palestinian’s land!

Some kid in the documentary is asked why he wants to go to Israel. “Ask the world”, he answers. He continues: everybody has a homeland, the French, the Germans, the Americans. (Yes, all kleptocracies, all stolen somehow, all labeled and relabeled, following war, war, war.) Lincon gave away Western land: but only after exterminating the occupants: the aboriginal owners.

I’d like to see the Cheyenne get their land back, the Lakota, but I don’t want Lincoln, or Bush, to give them Cree land, or Innuit land. Why don’t we give them France? Wy don’t we give them Turkey? I’ve never liked the Turks.

2015 07 22 Watching The Long Way Home, that history is precised, movingly, and now I have to apologize for my former ignorance and prejudice: current ignorance and projudice are bad enough.

Culture Wars: Phobias, Pogroms
2016 03 07 There are many classic authors I’ve started to read but never got anywhere with. Some catch me later, and I become a huge fan and proselitizer; others I still haven’t completed more than a paragraph or two of. Virginia Woolf is among the latter, though I may be about to modify that: it’s past time I shored a conception or two against a stack of misconceptions. My conversion got jolted yesterday when I read some of her antisemitic statements, then saw some of her corrections. Ferinstance, she hated Jews, but married a Jew: had deep prejudices against Jews, then modified them by offsetting prejudices, excuse me, judgments, not prejudices, against Christians. Etc. I’ll scribble something related on homophobia: explaining, defending, some familiar attitudes: especially with regard to the young forever correcting their elders.

Anti-Semitism

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Inaugural Delegation

/ Social Order /

Stupid Women
2017 01 22 “Stupid women!” was my beloved Jan’s response to yesterday’s Women’s Waddle on Washington. Uh oh, what do I dare say?

2017 01 21 So sorry, this post hasn’t been saddled properly. I didn’t get thrown in the first three seconds but I didn’t do it half right yet either. It’s a rant, I’ll scribble, scrapbook, maybe fix it right some time; if not, hell, life can be a bitch.

So far I don’t even have the title right. It’s all rhetoric, jokes, set ups, not all properly set; all potentially still settable.


Hamlet sails for England in the company of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. The latter pair bear a letter from Hamlet’s uncle to the king of England asking that monarch to please murder nutty Hamlet. Hamlet bears the king’s seal from his father, Hamlet Senior, the previous king of Denmark. Hmm. Hamlet substitutes his own letter: Dear King of England, please kill these annoying nincompoops, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Hamlet seals it with the king’s seal: royal edict, royal request, thank you, please, very much.

Sallic Law
Is this legitimate? It’s as legitimate as anything can get in human politics. And in a just Denmark, Hamlet senior wouldn’t have been assassinated. And had he died anyway, Hamlet Junior would have ascended the throne: he’s the prince, the one and only. Hamlet’s got the ring, having the ring is 90% of kingship. Guy comes to my house, he shows a badge, the badge says “Sheriff”. Now he can read my mail, take my money, say it’s legitimate.

I don’t want Hamlet’s ring; I want God to say what’s what. But there’s a problem: how do I know it’s God? Will he have a seal? a ring? a beard? Will he be the only guy with a beard?

But, you know, I don’t trust God either.

Let me rephrase that: never mind God; I don’t trust me!
And I trust you even less.

Moses comes down from the mountain, he’s got his tablets, he says they’re from God, they’re commandments, ten of them. Like fingers. Why should we believe Moses? or Moses’ God? Or the Jews?

Say you’re a Canaanite, God says your land belongs to the Jews … At leat that’s what the Jews say. Why believe any of these people?

I don’t believe we should obey anybody’s commandments until we first clean the most blatant lies and thefts off our slate.

The natives were on the beach, nice beach, Palm Beach, along came Morgan and Flagler, evicted them, sold the beach to Flagler and Morgan. The natives had been on Palm Beach forever, centuries anyway. We’d never heard of it, but we want it, to sell to Morgan and Flagler: because we don’t give a shit who owns Canaan; we care that God gave us, the white kleptocrats, by right of military dominance, Palm Beach.

Even if Trump had a letter from God, even if God had a seal or a ring, I don’t see why anyone should respect any quantity of votes cast in the shadow of denying global warming. Can anyone really be so stupid as to imagine that numbers of thieves trump truth? There’s seven of us and only one of you: I own the contents of your safe. Your domain is eminently mine.

How can votes from California count when California was stolen from Sutter by the rapacious ’49ers?

Sutter had had a paper signed by the US saying the Sacramento valley was his, Sutter’s. He’d made a deal with the Indians first, then Russia and Mexico: and US. Funny thing, once the ’49ers overran New Helvetia, destroyed his crops, killed and BBQ’d his cattle, suborned his army, that paper never showed up. That paper clearly proved that the kleptocrats were trespassing. Where could that paper have gone once the kleptocrats took over? Gee, paper burns, what a shame.

President Agent Orange
2017 02 19 Just say that on the web. President Agent Orange!

Social Order

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Carousel Cosmology

/ Movies /

Immortal Rubbish

I love Carousel. I love the songs, the staging, the lyrics. I love Rogers, I love Hammerstein. I also love holding the story in contempt.

Carousel (1956) bubbled up on my streaming list last evening, 2017 01 12 . I’ve been enjoying old musicals recently even more than I enjoyed them when they were current, so I wasn’t too surprised to be very moved by Carousel: even by the trumped-up dummy cosmo-theology. Billy Bigham, a lout of a protagonist, a seducer of bubble-bosomed virgins as well as a gigolo to old pleasure-boat whores, a wife beater with a chip on his shoulder big enough to guarantee unemployability except as a gigolo, is spitting on and polishing Christmas-ornament-size tinfoil stars in the kind of firmament easily evoked on stage. The firmament has a hierarchy, the local boss is the star keeper. I noticed in the credits that the script was penned by the Ephrons, a family successful in mapping the most audience-willing religion. They’re Jews, of great talent, and spin a cosmology that simple-minded Christians will swallow as well as Jews, and plenty of Muslims, if not perhaps Buddhists too. (My favorite alternate dance partner’s favorite song is The Keeper of the Stars.) Carousel inhabits that Hollywood heaven.
Billy throws a star. It cascades into Richard Rogers’ Carousel Waltz! Wonderful: I’m ready to weep: it’s my Hollywood heaven too!

Shirley Jones is fixed on Billy. She ignores all warnings. She’s about to get knocked up as well as knocked down. Billy falls on his knife during a robbery. The star keeper tricks him into going back to the earth of living humans where he gives a Hollywood ornament star to his daughter, now aged fifteen. So, the woman, then girl, he’s seduced (of course she’s really seduced herself) lives in a nice white wooden coastal Maine house with her daughter just about to graduate from high school. (Age fifteen? How much information is in that fact?) (So, Billy’s abandoned her, but something has fixed her up pretty nice: who, the star-keeper?)

Jan and I adore Cole Porter. Carousel is Rogers and Hammerstein. We love Learner and Lowe too. I’m especially fond of Richard Rogers, fellow Columbia alumni, and have been since a musical he composed and staged as an undergraduate was featured at my twentieth reunion (his fiftieth or so).
My beloved Jan got kindled by my enthusiasm. She wanted to see it, so we watched it last night. If I loved the show, the staging, the songs when I was alone, I loved it all twice as much with her. And she echoed my sarcasms about the rubbish morality to a tee.

This time through I paid close attention to the cast. Jacques d’Amboise dances a great carousel ballet with the puberty-radiating daughter. She’s already danced her muff into the face of every boy on the beach.

The Rogers’ songs are fabulous and work however ridiculous the premise: When you walk through a storm hold your head up high and don’t be afraid of the dark. This is presented as a Sampler: the wordiest sampler I’ve ever heard. Is this morality sustainable? Is walking with your head high really the safest behavior in a storm?

Never mind. The plethora of great bullshit songs gives screen space to a string of marvelous bench singers: Cousin Netty for example: Jeez, what a contralto. Mr. Snow has already shone a couple of times.
For decades I ride the composer and ignore the wordsmith; but here I’m all over worshipping Oscar Hammerstein II as well.

Kudos
If I Loved You is the star. The stupid story, the offensive morality, the cast blend into as good a piece of stagecraft as I can recall: aria mixes seamlessly with recitative, the female and male elements perfectly balanced. Bravo.

Star Power
Gordon MacRae’s voice is almost as big as his rib cage. Whew. Shirley Jones’ breasts cantilever from her chest like velcroed billiard balls, sticking as straight out as anything perfectl round can, they’re right in Billy’s face and the audience’s face no matter how the scene positions her. (Funny contrast to the canon-boobed carousel owner.)

But: the exploited female landscape may have washed in 1956 but it looks just ridiculous in 2017. Billy goes out of his way to lose his job as the carousel gigolo. He and Julie sponge on her cousin She serves him his dinner as a servant, his jailbird friend steals half the food. The carousel’s Mrs. Mullin visits Billy, Julie stays out of the say, stiff and correct, and as yielding as a proper servant. Mrs. Mullin’s double-cannon chest nearly keelhauls the Maine coast.

Billy should have been put in the stocks, in Maine or New York or Salem. But the silly girl deserves every abuse.

That’s maybe what I like best about this stellar show: the politics, the economic and social ecology is simply preposterous.
And boy have I had a Richard Rogers ear worm for the past couple of days.

Oh: Billy gets a day’s leave from his star polishing, he gets to see his fifteen year old daughter graduate from school: age fifteen?! Doesn’t that scream for comment? That attempted robbery / murder felon hadn’t even known what gender Louise was! Why is the star keeper so fawning on him? bending all the rules? Actually, it’s perfect kleptocrat morality: God favors the sinners, cheats at every chance. Favor is for the land grabbers, the genocides.

2017 01 15 Rogers ear worm for days now. Shirley Jones is amazing with her pert bosom, her white socks, her neat shoes, her female fanny, her preposterous innocence.
I’m also very fond of some of the secondary cast: Cousin Netty; Carrie, Mr. Snow. Mr. Snow is the good husband to Billy’s bad husband: but we’re supposed to like Billy and take Snow for granted. Then they give us a song to despise Snow by: No body likes a man who thinks he’s good. Well, compared to Billy, Mr. Snow is good. Anybody is good.

2017 01 16 More days slide by and I’ve still got the Carousel ear worm. Ridiculous story but dlightfully so. Julie sings “He’s your fella, and you love him: there’s nothing more to say.” Wait a minute, girls and boys, Julie is the last knocked up punching bag of a slave wife you should listen to: for advice or anything. Carrie is no prize either. But the girls are uniform saints compared to Billy and Jigger.

Kudos to Oscar Hammerstein for fobbing this behavior onto us as a favor. I recently watched a doc on women in prison, in Tennessee. I didn’t see one inmate as adorable as Shirley Jones: or Carrie, or Cousin Nettie. Or Mrs. Mullin. But I recognized the inmates behavior as indicating comparable intelligence: with a major difference: the female cast of Carousel is unrelentingly heterosexual, fertile, headed for motherhood (and abuse, and abandonment …) The convicts are aggressively lesbian: vengeful, vindictive: threatened to tear each other’s face off if one fucks outside the bond.

2017 01 19 Ear worm is still monopolizing my ear! If I Loved You!, I do love you, Richard Rogers, Oscar Hammerstein, Gordon MacRae, Shirley Jones.

Cole Porter balanced his homosexuality in a vindictively hetero- world; my bet is that Rogers was so thoroughly hetero- he didn’t need to pretend.

I mix actor’s names and character names. This is not an academic paper: It’s pk winging.

Wondering
2017 01 27 Julie sings “What’s the use of wondering / If it’s bad or it it’s good / He’s your fella And you love him / And all the rest is talk.” Good, bad … right wrong …” Notice how anti-Christian, anti-orthodox this question is. Jews and Christians aren’t supposed to wonder about such things: the religion provides the answers, there’s no wondering: wondering is blasphemy! There’s no “if” in authoritarian religions. Philosophers have a series of “if”s; not rabbis, not priests.

But Julie is a rebel from the first moment we see her fixed on Billy. God is not uppermost in her thoughts. That’s not just anti-God, it’s anti-Civilization. No, no: the raw female must be tethered, tamed, broken.

Trying to find authoritative lyrics for the Wondering song I discover that Oscar Hammerstein 2 wrote the lyrics first, then Rogers wrote the music. Glad to know it. What a team.

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Deschooling Blab CatchUp

Deschooling Blab CatchUp: Introduction

Depeche Mode
In the 1990s I developed a dozen or so domains, blogs: business, art gallery, sales, service, DTP, personal, philosophy, theology, cosmology: pkImaging.com; Knatz.com, Macroinformation.org, InfoAll.org …

in Oct 2006 I wrote to the English professors at NYU warning them that my time was running out: I was bloke, losing my senses, had lost resources by the death of my principal patron, Catherine. Catherine and I had made do on $700 or $800 a month: now she was dead: my social security was pissant: Thus: NYU was running out of time to respond to my testimony dating back to the early 1960: I was out of patience, they were out of time: either acknowldge my accusations, address them, or face the possibility of my justice.
The letter was ironic, of the Modest Proposal type, Jonoathan Swift: I said that once I was too broke to get from Sebring to Avon Park, several miles, from the middle of Highlands County Florida to the norther tip of Highlands County Florida, then I would be tempted to go to New York, rampaging against the public that stole the internet from me without once understandning that I had offered, and run, an internet from 1970 to 1974. Pissed, I would paint the town red.

Now: notice, what NYU and the FBI did not: if I was too broke and exhasted to drive the ten miles or so from Sebring to Avon Park, how was I going to get from Sebring to New York City?, downtown, Fifth Avenue, Washington Square? the Village? NYU campus?

NYU complained to the FBI that they had been threatened. NYU didn’t know how to read my writing in the 1960, but it wasn’t until 2006 that NYU invited federal agencies to join their illiteracy. The FBI rewrote my satire, ironing out some of the paradoxes, all of the humor: turned their sabotage over to a federal prosecutor, and the prosecutor accepted the FBI’s rewrite without acknowledging that it was the FBI’s letter, not mine, that they were judging me on. Imaine the Jew in the concentration camp scribbling a note to the Nazis, threatening them with a black eye, and the Nazis, bristling with arms and evil beat up on the starving helpless Jew in his prison behind barbed wire!

My domains added up to several thousand text and code files and another couple of thousand araphics files: art, cgi …

in a word,
I’ll be reading censored files into this (series of) file(s), posting them before editing them. code will show, links will be broken. Federal judge Martinez ordered my NYU letter section censored, the world would no longer be permitted to see my ironic masterpiece. My data host, A+.net, censorec the NYU section and obliterated all of my domains and subdomains as well: several thousand files, a dozen distinct web sites, wiped out, purged, evaporated.
Judge Martinez sentenced me to 15 months in jail: due out in November 2007. I got home to see, no surprise, the FBI had confiscated all of my computers. Worst, they’d uncoordinated all my interlaced web presences. K. domains themselves hosted other domains, published Ivan Illich work that had been not published, censored, sabotaged … published Catfarmer.com, the great anarchist writer, Catfarmer … pk’s science writing …
So: since then, November 2007 to November 2016, ongoing, I’ve been trying to reconstruct K. posts, domains, etc.
I’ve reconstructed (and expaned) a lot: thousands, but not all. I’m losing my eye sight, fast. My hearing was already shot. Now my athleticism is letting me down, I’m getting crippled, can no longer dance and fuck all night, what the hell, 78 years old. My blog posts remained where I’d put them. I rebuilt the most important of my K. sections: Deschooling, Macroinformation … But there are still hundreds of posts I haven’t reerected. It’s a lot of work, recoding, relinking: and of course I edit, add, rewrite as I go. But one of these days I’ll be dead or wholly crippled, maybe too blind even to fumble. So: I put up the unrevived remainer without worrying about code, graphics, links.

Then with what skills remain, I’ll fix them, edit them, Last, I’ll add and expand. (Except I’m always adding and expanding, can’t stop myself.

DeCentral Menu DeGate! Deschool Menu
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