Ethnic Minority

/ Culture /

Ethnic Minority
2018 05 18 pk is all German on my father’s side, half German on my mothers. The remaining half on my mother’s side is British: Engish. That’s the proud half: the Scottish side: a half filled with confusion. My mother’s grandmother was a Turner: of unclear, sort of Scottish blood, an orphan sponsored by Sir Robert Peele. The Turner orphan was ward to the prime minister! And somewhere in there the Turner blood was McPherson. By blood? or by rearing? I don’t know: and don’t much care. My point is to ID radical, passionate origins. The Scots are crazy!

April 2018

pk & Jan, Kirkin’ the Tartans

This April Jan and I attended a Kirkin’ the Tartans ceremony: at the First Presbyterian Church in Sebring.

April 2018

Kirkin’ the Tartans

Once upon a time Celtic identity threatened the sovereignity of imperial England. Celtic identity, Celtic pride, was sabotaged, forbidden. Scotsman by law could not wear kilts. Remind you of anything? How about breaking up groups snatched from Africa for the slave trade? The slavers deprived such individuals not only of their freedom, but also their families, their tribe: their social puissance: their language. Individuals can protest all they want; if their group identity, their ability to communicate as a community, has been castrated, they’ll be politically helpless as well as individually weak.
Ah, but in time, things change.

I had my kilt made for me in Edinborough in the late 1950s: or was it the early ’60s? The pattern is the hunting tartan of the McPherson’s. bk loaned it back to me so Jan and I could dress up for the Kirchin’ ritual. A local paper commemorated us with a photo.

Scotts Wha’ Hey Wi’ Wallace Bled
Scotts Wham Bruce Has Often Led

Braveheart was such a great movie: you didn’t have to have any Scottish blood to think so. I’ve seen it many times: and I think Jan and I are due for another dip. Meantime we just saw Rob Roy: a terrific movie, thank you.
We all love Mel Gibson, never mind what an obnoxious idiot he can be. Liam Neeson is our brother, our father, our hero.

Please share a perception with me: Look at the globe. Identiry Scotland, Wales, Ireland. Look at Cornwall, at Brittany. Imagine Tristan sailing from Brittany to Coarnwall. Picture Iseult sailing freom Ireland to Cornwall. Now: delete from your mind the map of Europpe: just think “Celts”. Ireland isn’t an island; or it’s all island. The Celts wove their territories together with the sea. The sea was their road.”France” is as much “theirs” as Ireland is! They’re like the Polynesians! land stitched by water. They’re all a short sail away from each other: cousins on both sides of the Channel: both Channels. It’s all channels.

We’re born into a world that genuflects toward Rome. We imagine that we’re Christian. We think that people think that Christianity is “good”. Would we think so if Rome hadn’t become the default kleptocracy assigning “education”?

When the Roman marched north to conquer “Gaul” they found a continent, “Europe”, full of Celts. They were rich, they had fancy clothes, they had a network of salt mines. If you have salt you can preserved foods on shipboard. If you have salt you can discover “America”.
Now, the Romans have no talent for invention; but man are they talented at confiscation: and administration. The Romans didn’t care about Jesus or Saint Paul; the Trinity or if people spoke Latinate languages; the Romans cared who administered the salt mines!

England stole Rome’s hegemony England fell on its face: and US took over. Salt mines! salted anchovies! ham! Conquest, there’s no end to it.

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Designer Identities

/ Culture /

Custom Forensics
Everyday now some Yahoo article chases you into a corner, you can’t duck it, can’t get rid of it. This morning there was one on actors chaning their names from Jewish to WASP: Isador Cohen rechristens himself Sean Dublin. Famous “names” came in a torrent: Joan Crawford, Lauren Bacall. Mixed among the self-ex-Jews were Cockneys: Cary Grant wasn’t always perfectly neurgal WASP. Can we also ink-over our individual-cattle tattoos from Dachau? Would a Third Reich court recognize recognize the designer identities of their Jews?
We all know how the Nazis dehumanized the Jews: what about their fags? or their anarchists? Could Cary Grant have been discarding more than one identity?
I can imagine God punishing the Nazis for dehumanizing the Jews: could there be a God who would punish the Cockney? How? by charging them with sedition?
Once a kleptocracy has endorsed lies about identity, can that klleptocracy prosecute for Justice? Can the ISIS “terrorist” register new fingerprints?

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Grope Log

/ Society / Survival / Culture /

The gal reporter gets groped while on the air: she whaps the guy with her mic!

I remember a friend’s mother proudly reporting that she had been groped on a street in Italy, summer of 1957. Apparently a decade had passed since her bottom had last been squeezed in public: she’d though she was losing her appeal. The same friend’s girl, walking that same summer on the street in Spain, became aware that she was being disdained as a whore. Ah, of course: she was wearing a blouse with short sleeves! Shame! Puta!
I myself didn’t become aware of New York City’s public sex life on the subway till I comuted to my army post in the early 1960s. I was acutely aware that ten times more women rubbed their buttocks against the back of my hand when I was in uniform than when I was just in shirt and jeans. Then I began watching guys blitz among the subway cars, bouncing from bottom to bosom. I never did figure out how many of the groped women were pursuing the gropes, how many were avoiding them. Only once did I see a groped girl get livid: try to humiliate the groper (me) with public attention.

I wish we could go back in time and watch Bill Cosby on the subway. Woody Allen. Etc.

One thing is sure: the situations occur in human cities, in human crowds: in a mix of human moralities. Try telling the Italian in a mob of males that the woman coming toward them’s ass is not public property. Of course it is, she’s walking in public! If she does’nt want to be groped she souldn’t be walking on the street. Ditto Spain, ditto New York.

i’ll be back

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Male Man

/ Science /
2018 05 03

Yahoo Headline: What It Means to “Dead-Name” a Transgender Person, and Why You Should Stop
What the hell is a transgender person? Is this a question for the man in the street? for Priests? the pope? journalists? How about scientists?
Scientists have defined “male” and “female”: isn’t it time journalists and the public learn what science says on the issue?

Democracy applies where opinion counts. Where things can be addressed rationally, by science, by scientific definition, there’s no room for opinion. The man in the street learns what the scientists say; the man in the street does not revises or overrule what the scientist says.

In astronomy, in physics, there’s no problem. The man in the street doesn’t not presume to correct the science. Ah, but gender is the very thing where everybody thinks they know what’s what: exactly backwards. The above article is illustrated by a picture with two apparent females, both “obviously” female: curvy, attractive. No, sorry: irrelevant. Zoologists do not define female. Female is what’s left over after “male” has been defined: and that is, does the genotype have testes?
Testes? then “he” is male. He’s male before the testes start to pump out testosterone.
Until the testes produce testosterone the genotype will acquire the characteriistics tha man in the street thinks of as female. The male who doesn’t not produce testosterone may look like Marilyn Monroe: hips, boobs, pleasant features … Irrelevant: male!

The White House, the mail house, the Vatican is not competent to identify male or female; once the zoologist finds testes, that genotype has been identified. Psychology is irrelevant. Congregations have no opinion.

more in a min

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

Human Intelligence, Legislation by Kleptocrats
2018 05 13 Happy Mothers Day!

Human beings are intelligent enough to imagine intelligence: and ethical behavior; but not intelligent enough to imagine that I am intelligent, and ethical, and don’t like to be supervised by morons: or legislated at by kleptocrats.

Waterboarding Trump
20018 05 12 “A GOP congressman from California said Friday night that President Donald Trump wouldn’t hold up well under torture, coming to the defense of Republican Senator John McCain as Trump surrogates continue to attack the Arizona legislator and veteran over his service record.”
Wow, we can mock and insult and make fun of Hitler all we want: and we could insult Nixon once he was wedged loose of the White House. I never expected to see an offering like the above while Trump was still stomping around, his head still on his neck: or Sarah Huckabee Saunders. Etc.
But it’s wonderful to contemplate. We could banish the national debt in no time if we sold shares to see Trump’s minions tortured. Las Vegan could lay odds on how long Sean Hannity would last against water squireted up his nose. I would love to see wagering as to whether Sarah Huckabee Saunders or John McCain would last longer with hot tongs on their pudendum. A Las Vegan tote board would sizzle.
2018 05 17 I seem to have picked on current White House denizens: therefore, Republicans. Not fair at all.
But we shouldn’t sweat it: they are the resident evil.

Ill Legal: English Down the River
What does “meat” mean? There was no public question on the matter until recently, and then, now, people didn’t ask me, the writer, the Shakespeare man, the English scholar. No, the journalists ask lawyers, and legislators: and juries, and readers: the victims of semantic manipulation. What 2018 05 13’s headline revealed to be at issue was whether a marketed food based on soy protein, from plants, grown in soil, could be called “meat”. The cattlemen want that sobriquest forbidden to all that doesn’t involve animal slaughter.

Notice, for English scholars, for scholars of any language, tradition counts. Only tradition counts: and market manipulators have no business on that turf.
Picture the people living in the nice cave which opens Quest for Fire. They sleep on the rock, douche in the river, laze in the sun: and have no market products: and if we don’t speak their language, if they have a language, it doesn’t matter what they call anything. I didn’t notice anything that looked like a culture academy as they were raped and murdered.
That would have been Africa somewhere. Descendants of escapees latched onto the middle east. We know from the Jews that desert demons have territory to those who fed them: Canaan to Jews. I don’t remember anywhere in Genesis or Exodus where some Phillistine wants to check God’s ownership papers: prove to me that this is your land to give away to these ragamuffins.
I understand that if we kills all the Lakota, that no one’s left standing to argue about rights. Crazy Horse didn’t have any papers. Washington could have sent enough paper with any cavalry to sunk the Bad Lands. Still, what does that have to do with what words mean? in English? in Sanskrit? in Hebrew?

pk suggests: don’t redefine “meat”: don’t permit its use in marketing once it becomes ambiguous. Or pen an exemption for lab innovations.
No, no: don’t allow the use of traditional words for innovation products: soy patties canNOT be meat burgers.

Musing on God’s Messages, Word on the Wind, coming up: 2018 04 29
All this deserves to be written better than I can manage thee days as I lose my sight, my hearing, my marbles: it’s a riot to remember the time when I was a perfectionist.

Ba-Bad Black Sheep
2018 04 28 Some royal cousin has a pair of black sheep which she has named “Venus” and “Serena”. A prince is about to marry a mulato. Both items are in the news. The news says that naming black sheepfor the Williams sisters is a no no. Why? Why should Americans care what British royals call anything? Why should Americans care who royals marry? Are they a standard of some kind? Is respect warranted?
I’m watching a TV dramatization of a Ken Follet novel, Twelfth Century. It’s funny to watch these Norman knights worry about blood lines and secession to the throne: they’ve got everything wrong, why should we worry about bastards?
The Norman didn’t just steal the country, they steal the church, steal the religion: steal the God: and the Christ! May the Norman God make sure that no Saxon blood, and absolutely no Celtic blood contaminates Norman monopoly.

Popular Fiat
2018 03 03 The movie calls itself Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. It’s up for awards. Cast sounds good. I’m half blind now, I hope I’ll have a little vision left when it comes to NetFlix, I’m certainly not going to see it in a theater. But today I check out the plot, see that it’s right up my alley: woman’s daughter is raped and murdered. She want someone convicted of the crime, rents billboards, says so: puts pressure on the sheriff.
In Genesis, when God was writing in Latin, God said Fiat Lux: Let there be light. Fiat: things get done, quick, by magic.
It’s a convenient universe in which the god can simple say things into existence. Democracy is magical politics: the public says it wants something, politicians promise it: a few years later some other politician promises it. Presto, changeo: Fiat order. And in law, fiat guilt!
Newton solved the laws of planetary motion. Others had tried and failed, Newton got it right. But no one had demanded that he get it right, no one had demanded that he get it at all. He got it because he played with the numbers, played seriously. There was no fiat, it was mental work, hard work. We don’t know if anybody before Newton was capable of such work. Damn few since, if any.
But wouldn’t it be nice: order the shefiff to arrest somebody. Order the sheriff to get it right. Or don’t: who cares if it’s right? The point is to have somebody writhing on the dungeon wall.

NBA, None or Done
2018 03 01 When I entered Columbia, 1956, we bragged about our liberal arts program: we were a real school; not a trade school. Our Chet Forte was the highest scoring basketball player in the US, top notch to Wilt Chamberlain’s #2. When Chet got a C in something he was booted off the team. His scholarship was supposed to be at least part scholarly. Can you imagine such a thing transpiring at Duke or at North Carolina? Guys today sell a years worth of their talent to Syracuse on their way to the NBA. Duke nd Syracuse are real universities: you can study a real subject there. But they’re not Columbia. And of course Columbia too is a trade school, at least in part
You see where this may go, go there yourself: I want to skip straight to a point I thought of yesterday:
Jennifer Lawrence says she dropped out of school at fifteen to pursue her acting. As far as I’m concerned acting is her real professon. She’s well rewarded in the field. Good. Maybe she plays basketball too. You get in front of that camera, Honey: I won’t complain if you make more money than LeBron James.
Jennifer, the darling, said that at fifteen in school she didn’t feel too smark. Good. Why should she? The school is none too smart itself.
more later

2018 02 27
Louis CK is disgraced. His schtick was to whittle his dick as though orgasm was approaching in two seconds. Now it seems he didn’t just jerk himself on stage, he pulled his pizzle in front of real women, in real time, when it seems none had asked him to, none wanted him to. Master man Jerry Seinfeld, wiseguy emeritus, genuinely wise, wonders what Harvey Weinstein is up to, wanting to shower in front of models: what’s CK up to, wacking in front of disgusted cast members.
Well, here comes pk, ahead on thing after thing, behind on everything else: I just watch Michael Jackson duet with Britney Spears. M Jax is always janking on his balls on stage. Spears has a sublimely round ass: at least when this film was shot. The audience colludes: the audience wants Jax yanking on huis balls, wants Britney to look like the universal tush.
And now I see, we were all practicing for Harvey Weinstein! How can we come down on Luois CK coming up when we’ve been encouraging them all along?

2018 02 26 The familiar monotheisms have it that God made man: and that God made man in his, God’s, “own image”. Therefore, one would think, that human thoughts and God’s thoughts were comptible: that man would have a clue what God was up to.
Traditional Christianity has it that man cannot understand what God is up to: and, further, it isn’t man’s business to know.
An extreme expresson of this comes up in Kazantsakis’ novels: Jesus’ disciples don’t have a clue what Jesus is up to, what he says, what it all means. Indeed, it’s pretty funny where Jesus explains to Judas that it has to be he, Judas, who betrays Jesus: “You’re my best friend: who could be better? How could the ironies be richer?”

Irony: there’s irony galore.Man is supposed to listen to God: man doesn’t. Or, he does, but man is incapable of hearing, of understanding. So: you go to Temple to honor God; but in temple, you don’t listen, you don’t understand. So you go to Church; but Church is not a place where understanding abounds. Newton found things to be parallel at Cambridge: his contemporaries knew he was smart, and there were times when Newton, elected to the Royal Society, was pround to for once have a peer or two: till he decided, by experience that he had no peers! Don’t publish, you have no readers. There are no peers, keep what you think between you and God!

Etc. Etc. So: humans give up on temples and churches. Instead they form schools, universities, governments. Does any government represent God or what God says?

Schools intimidate the immature: so the immature will believe that they’re flawed (mere orthodox belief acter all). The student feels his inadequacy keenly. The professors put on robes, have tiruals in dead languates. At any point is the school and its professors responsible for what God said? For what Jesus said? Or for what inspired disciples of God or Jesus said?

But wait a minute: God is supposed to be right, be definition as it were; but what if he’s not? What if the universe is true … (How could it not be?) And God and his churches are false? Then we’d be wise to listen to the smart guys. We’d be wise to honor the truth. We’d have to become intelligent t have aclue what the truth is.

We’ve gotten away with dishonoring the truth so far, we seem to have gotten away with it, we’re so stupid, so dishonest, we think we’re getting away with it. Like Trump! Like Nixon.

Consider the FBI. Federal collusions grant themselves the power to impose authority onto truth: it isn’t true if the FBI says it isn’t. The FBI runs labs, the labs cheat, the lab give the results the fed wants.

Go to the Church and ask what Ivan Illich said. The Church will give you an answer, but it won’t be what Illich said!

To to NYU and ask what I said? They’ll haw, and fumble, and finally give you an answr: a false answer.

The people exist to ratify kleptocracy. The land grabbers are in charach of whose claims to land are legitimate.

Back up: God tells man he can use whatever is in the garden, but don’t touch the tree of knowledge. What does man do? He cheats, he steams: then the moron lies about it!

White men like Nazis denied that Jews were “white”. Well sure: no one is white if you’re careful enough. Then the white men indenture themselves to steal land from North Americans. Then the white men vote to approve themselves as a republic!

Wait a minute: we could form a republic maybe if we could find available territory; but North America was not available! Certainly not Plymouth. And certainly not to indentured serfs: the bank owned them.

For theology or philosophy or history … to be anything but a joke you’d first need an honest “man”: or an honest God.

You’d have to find a university that actually understood what Abelard said: a thousand years ago.

How about a true Bible?

There are, or at least have been, people who understand a phrase or two from God, from Jesus … from Abelard, from Newton. There were people in the 1960s who understood a phrase or two, a poinit or two, from Ivan Illich: the Church should give up all of its property, the Church, if it wished to become Christian, would have to de-professionalize its priesthood. And, instead of schools, a people who would be free would elect for themselves a set of uncensored date bases: replace the compulsory, centralized school system with a cybernetic free marketplace. Had the kleptocrats not understood the impications there would have been little reason for them to come down on me, the offerer of such reforms. The priests understood how Jesus’ liberal offer of divine love, threatened their monopoly on power, on authority. Had they not seen the meaning they would not have been so avid to cheat!

The gospels tell how the Temple and the Roman state violated their own rules to sabotage Jesus: illegally. They violated their own sacred laws in order to contradict God.

Of course the FBI knows that it’s “wrong” to falsify evident, to give false testimony. Our institutions also know that the tax payers would castrate them in a trice if they didn’t cheat: take the God the Jews stole (from some little, lost, forgotten tribe, and steal him for themselves.

This could use a little editing, but what couldn’t?

2018 02 20
Last evening I watched the Pooja and Shanti story again, this time in the company of my beloved Jan. “I love that little girl!” I kept exclaiming.

And so I don’t doubt do we all.

Her parents, just off screen I presume, must love her: and boy, are they showing her off.
The camera loves her. Colors love her. Shanti the elephant’s mahouts love her.
Is there anything unclean about our love? How often does she get her bottom fondled as she goes by? By me? By the mahouts?
We’re a sexy species. And she’s one of the posters! Never mind how young she is: that youth is ancient.

She reminds me ot Emma Watson: beautiful at nine, beautiful at nineteen. And Reese Witherspoon. (Make sure you know the latter’s film The Man in the Moon: she, maybe eleven, maybe twelve, loves her farm boy neighbor: he, early twenties, sees jails, dungron, ruin … if he yields to nature, he’ll get the enmity of his tribe.
PS Poojah lives half the year in India, the rest in Germany. The name refers to a prayer ritual in Hindu, honoring a god. (And Shanti, if I remember my Sanscrit right, means “peace”.)

I also loved how clear the film’s German seemed. Without the English subtitles I wouldn’t have understood many of the words, but listening and reading, paying attention, made for great practice. Hear enough of any language and it will start to seem to make sense, whatever it is: Chinese, Algonquin …

2018 03 02 Here it is a few days later and I’m in the middle of seeing Miracle on 34th Street for the first time since I was a child. Natalie Woods made a huge impression on us: as a girl, then as a teen, then as Natalie Woods. But it’s in the context of Poojah that I want to comment. Santa gets the Macy’s Santa job, he bounces kids on his lap all day long. He winds up going home with Natalie Woods and mom, Maureen O’Hara. Mom teaches “skepticism” to girlie, Santa gently chides her on it, starts to convert her in the direction of ImagiNation: there’s the US, the UN, the Dutch Nation and ImagiNation. That’s ridiculous in itself but it’s an intrepid Santa bouncing little girls with cute little round bottoms on his lap that i want to comment on: where were the journalists? the cops? the mothers up in arms? the dykes, the lawyers?
In the 1980s I befriended an old guy in Naples, on the road to Marco Island. He was a physicits, retired from NASA: Eckland Hathaway. I loved how he lived on the edge of the wilderness, like Robinson Crusoe. Kids came to him to report fire ant hills, he’d boil some water, dispose of the ants: like the Pied Piper. followed by children, clamoring and dancing. But the children were welcome no further. Eck, with absolute wisdom, didn’t want parents buiding a head of steam over whether great-gramps is fondling all that toddle tush.
Years later I was camped in Sebring Gardens, Sebring FL. A neighbor, Betty, was caring for her mulatto granddaughter: adorable little girl, rounded below the waist to perfection. I watched at a distance as this camper fondled granddaughter’s fanny while that camper avoided demonstrations of affection like the plague. It was best to keep an extreme distance ’cause grandma called the ops on this one (but never that one). Go figure. Meantime grandma’s whore of a welfare party girl slewed her boyfriend’s hotrods sideways, building Florida sand moguls the size of dunes.
Was the little girl as cute as Natalie Woods? Close. Close enough.

God’s Profits (I mean Prophets)

God tells Jewus to toss the money tables at the Temple. He does. We torture him, kill him.
On the cross Jesus asks God why he, God, has forsaken him, Jesus. He doesn’t seem to get a very good answer, but does it strike you as typical? That’s how it strikes me: as Edgar Lee Masters wrote in Spoon River Anthology, God standing idle while his son is tortured to death sounds exactly like him!)

New answer me this, how come Christian churches are still pretending to care about what God says? At what point does God chime in? make a statement?
And what’s our basis for believing that we’re competent to know what God said to Jesus? or what Jesus said to us?

Until God is heard from in a way that would convince an intelligent, cautious person, shouldn’t we all just hold our tongue?

This and that church holds up text they call the “Bible”. Do we have any basis for accepting (or rejecting) such statements?

God told me to offer you, the human world, an internet: a digital Who’s Who, What’s Where. I knew it was God telling me for one reason because God had clearly said it first to Ivan Illich: God talked to Illich, and me, and others, giving us a nudge to get rid of kleptocracy-controlled data bases, compulsory brain washing. Men were free once, sort of, we could be free again: sort of. Worth a try, anyway. No?

But you tortured me. Still do: these fifty-eight years later.

How do you know I’m telling your the truth? Same way you know anything: you don’t! Or, you know it because it makes sense. It has the ring of truth. Because nothing else makes sense. If God didn’t tell me, or Illich, then God should have told me, and Illich.

I’ll tell you another reason to recognize the inspiration as from God? Because no one understood a word I said! !!!
Did anyone understand Jesus? Did anyone understand Illich?
Can you show me one person who understood what I was talking about in 1970?
Or 1980? or 1990? Or since?

Is that in itself proof? Is everything you don’t understand from God? No, that’s not what I mean. But things not understood, things rejected out of hand, things triggering torture despite laws supposedly protecting speech, stand in pretty good company.

What Do I Believe?
I know one thing: if you think I mean what I say literally, Go straight to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Consider further: I might have meant something literally once, but no longer.
Could what I say be translated into someting literal? Maybe I could have once, but no longer.

Take religion, for example. Few writers define their terms as regularly or as carefully (or as creatively) as I do: but what I mean by “God” changes form day to day, minute to minute: use to use. It all flashes like a strobe light.

Or take politics: I believe in “freedom”.
But what is it?
Beware, I often mean things as a joke, and often as a trap.
Watch out.

Once my jokes were hopes that God would save you. or that I would save you. or am I trying to save God?
Some of what I mean is perverse. Taught as a Calvinist, as a wiseguy kid I was anti-Catholic. My weapon against the Catholics was to take their regimen literally.
I no longer know what that means. But I used to know, maybe you can guess. Maybe you don’t cafe, maybe that’s your downfall: God and I can laugh at you at Judgment. Or is it that God’s been laughing at me all along?
Yes, Robin Gibb, the joke’s on me.

Hell is still today wearing yesterday’s costume.

I believe in freedom. for individuals. I do not believe in freedom for centralized powers. I do not believe that Hitler should be free to murder 18 million fags, Jews, Commies. If he does, he should be stuck with his action. Hell is still today wearing yesterday’s costume.

Uh Oh
I just made a typo: a huge amount of text rolled into this file. I’ve corrected what I’ve seen, who knows what I haven’t seen. Be patient, be generous. Or don’t.

I scribble, I save some scribble. I make a typo, reams o ftext inserts itself somewhere before I know what I’ve done. I try to trim, but volume gets the best of me.
Well, maybe heaven keeps perfect records; the rest of us don’t. So hell.

Do you believe in God?
In a serious religion that question would be a waste of time. and efort. and be rude to boot. Anyway, the much more important questions is

Does God believe in you?

When God asked me to offer you an internet, 1970, did he need Congress’s permission? Did I have to fill out paperwork at the court house? Pay a fee?

Continues as reverse chronology: Monthly Archive

Such archives date backwards: counter chronological: today, yesterday, the day before … (Continues in several archive choices.)

Posted in pk Personal, pk Teaching

Stormy Rule Change

/ Teaching / Society / Survival / Culture /

2018 04 30 Bucky Fuller used to say that the world comes without an instruction manual. By the time we figure a rule out, typically the rule has changed. I suspect that we only notice the rule when the rule is changing.

Stormy Daniels makes one example stand out: when a john fucks a whore, it’s understood that the whore doesn’t thereafter phone the john at home: and improvises, lies, if the wife answers.

It doesn’t matter what the non-disclosure agreement says or how much payoff was involved, the whore doesn’t blab! That’s a major part of what you’re paying the whore for.

The best presentation of all this I’ve ever seen came from Mario Puzo in Fools Die. Gronvelt, the Las Vegas hotel manager, teachers Cully, his protege, about life. Never cheat the whore: or all hell may break loose.

Whore behavior is an interesting study. I remember seeing Japanese woodcuts of samurai visiting the Yoshiware district. The gentlemen, these privileged samurai, wore masks: concealed their faces; but the gentlemen also wore their family crests! Their identity was blazoned all around them. It doesn’t matter that he’s wearing a King Kong mask: that’s Prince Harry!

The getting laid is extracuricular: something for the society to blink at. Don’t tell! All hell may break loose.

What Cully learns reminds me of something else: something very relevant to the Trump age: Not only is Stormy Daniels not supposed to kiss and tell; but the media are not supposed to pass on the tale! Of course it’s Prince Harry: who else would be so radiant? What? are you an idiot? telling us it’s Price Harry!? Shut up and enjoy your society’s hypocrisy.

Civilization is built on lies, on false information. White America doesn’t care what Crazy Horse says from a jail in Dakota; white America cares very much what the Times says, the Washington Post. The important thing is that kleptocrats, those who put Crazy Horse in jail, confine Crazy Horse’s truths to terrioties strictly controlled by the kleptocracy: and the version of history that it wants told. No one is fooled. The whites know they’re landgrabbers, liars, cheats. The coloreds know they’re no better. We all know that if we crucify the Jesus the minute he opens his mouth, then speakers will say only things they hope are agreeable. Marilyn Monroe knows to keekp silent ono the size of JFK’s dick; or how he shot his wad the second she touched him.

editing may be in order

Posted in culture | Leave a comment

Word on the Wind

/ Teaching / Scholarship / Bible /

Stealing from Jesus, Mugging Santa

In 1970 God made it clear to me that he wanted me to offer the internet to the public. The internet, registries available to all, the infrastructure voluntary, had been occuring to me over the 1960s.
uh oh, revision, edition gaffs.

I’ve never seen this message on paper, on parchment, carved on blocks or chiseled on stone. It seemed to be in English: though it’s hardly my business to tell God how to communicate. Actually, I don’t think it was in any human language: or, it was in the human language most suitable for God to nudge pk in: mental English: the language of scholarship, literature, the Bible.

Or was it? Actually now that I think of it, it was in English, perfect scholarly English: the English of Ivan Illich: then literate in eighteen languages: since then, twenty-odd including oriental. Illich wrote Deschooling Society. A printed multiple circulated among his friends out of Cuernavaca. By golly there was even time for some of my own diction to influence his by the time the hard copy hit the market: but first Deschooling Society, three chapters of it, were published in NRB.
Feedback was sparked. A free society has no business compelling attendance: not in church, not in school, neither at a Nazi rally. No: the proper use of digital computers was to develop data bases of resources: and to share them; without comulsion, without control. Build in a feedback system, unsupervised except by the human population, and you’ve created the world’s first free store: free society: at least potentially free.
The system is good, now see wha people do with it.

The part of the human internet was 100% Illich-invented. It jibbed with mine — mine sketched below. It came purely from Illich’s mind (plus a few of his friends: Paul Goodman, Everett Reimer …) And that, obviously came straight from God: closer than the Bible to a divine manuscript: a prescription for freedom, a potential for equality.

I’ll scribble at this till it’s good, or till I’m dead.

What right do I have to talk about God? to repeat or to paraphrase, what God says to me? Same right Moses had, or Adam, or Noah … or Jesus … (or John …)

I’m a “white” guy. What right do white guys have to the messages of the Jews’ desert god?

No one disputes my claim to be white: do they? I’m American. That is, I’m 3/4 German, and 1/4 English/British/Scots. That’s what we mean by white, isn’t it?
Actually though white is one of those terms that doesn’t mean anyting except what people mean by it: and that, since it’s human really doesn’t mean anything very much very reliably at all. Right away we stumple at the Jews’ desert god. Jews don’t quality as white: not according to the racists that I know. Unless we mean American white. Americans mean whatever they mean, and don’t expect any critical close inspection.

When I was in the army and had to fill out forms on candidates for the draft, I was privy to an apaling list of “races” — other than white — went on for pages: most racist single document I’ve ever imagined.

But never mind all that. I’m trying to tell you what language God was speaking in, to Illich, and also to me.

Illich, realize, was a Roman Catholic priest: rank, monisgnor (till the Church defroked him: forbade him to say mass! So was it Catholic English he was transcribing in? Would he have said he was transcribing? No, that’s my claim: a matephor. Dammit, the writing is the inspired international “English” I’ve ever seen: the greatest of all writers.

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