Rights of Rudeness

/ Stories / Non-Conviviality / Neighbors /

Jan has a beautiful home on Lake Charlotte.

Jan's sunset

You see the lake above as a banner: her canoe: me, my grandson, my daughter-in-law. And you see it again immediately above, this sunset in a different decade than the top one, a couple of Christmases ago. So nice, whenever.

Lake Charlotte is a private lake. There’s no public access. There are however a couple of local access lanes for property owners whose land is not directly on the lake. I’ll call Jan’s right-of-way the Booth Drive right-of-way. If you live on Booth Drive but not directly on the shore of Lake Charlotte you can launch your boat via the right-of-way. Very pretty. I am one of several people maintaining it. I don’t mow it but I do weed it: a little.

For two months now neighbor Dave has parked a grungy bass boat on the right-of-way right under Jan’s nose as it were: directly out her kitchen view. Only one other time in the eight or so years I’ve known and loved her has anyone left a boat on the Booth Drive right-of-way. That person disappeared, the cops on his tail. The cops removed his boat and trailer, his father sold the house: neighborhood evaporation. That neighbor had no right to park a boat on the right-of-way, but no one said anything to him that I know of. He had his boat chained to Jan’s slash pine tree: then, that once, till he was arrested.

Since then the lake has risen, the lake weeds have grown rampant. The right-of-way still looks great. Dave had been mowing it. I weed it, clear it of debris. Jan’s lawn guy mows it without any instructions to do so. Since Dave’s boat has been parked there under Jan’s nose her lawn guy has not mowed there. I though pick up tree debris: fallen pine cones, moss …

Let me clarify: only local residents are welcome — by the county, by the sheriff, by the neighbors — to use the right-of-way. No one has a right to park anything there. It’s private communal property; not the property of any individual or family. Certainly no one had the right to park there for two months! But Dave did.

By Right of Rudeness.

Jan’s neighbors pick on her. She’s cute, she’s petite, she looks (but isn’t) rich. They didn’t used to pick on her. I’m confident that they pick on her because of me. I’m a radical, an enemy of the state. I’m the deschooler. I’m an anarchist: against all government, against social coercion. I’m sabotaged by my universities, by my employers … by the FBI, by the federal bureau of prisons … by the publishers who didn’t publish my work, by the colleges that didn’t hire me, by the colleges that illegally fired me … other institutions are still doing that! … by the public which failed to support the internet I started and ran from 1970 to 1974, and then plagiarized into this internet we’re using now: all theft: all due to be punished by the innovations’ coauthor, God.

People in Highlands County know that they can do anything they want to me: the county, the state, the fed, will back the lynchers, not me: will bring more tar, more feathers. But Jan has always been different. Jan is a person you lie down in the road for, so you’ll be run over, not she.

Anyway, today a crew of yard people, were at her house, trimming, clearing. I was already trimming when they arrived, then we all worked together. Very nice. I like Tom, he seems to like me. He certainly sees how hard I work for Jan and her yard. So I said to Jan, while Tom is here, let’s move Dave’s wreteched distressed boat out from under your nose. We did. we moved it to the other side of the right-of-way, not quite so under her nose. It’s still on community property. It’s still ghastly, but it’s not quite so irritating.

2016 05 24 I posted the above yesterday. Already last evening I got a couple of updates from Jan:
She called the cops, as I joined Tom in urging her to do. The cops reminded Jan that she doesn’t live in the city of Sebring: her problems are the business of the county: county codes and code enforcement. The county is busy: she gets put at the end of a long line of complainants. The county dates the complaint not from two months ago but from yesterday.
Meantime Dave confronts Jan, calls her the bitch of the block, declares that no one likes her … and she insults him back: he’s really pissed her off, for years now.

I just added more, but I’m saying more than I should about her problems: I don’t want to make things worse for her. Me? I used to things being bad for me. Jan is used to that too. I move today’s additional babble elsewhere, in quarantine.

Hierarchy vs. Conviviality Stories

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Sisyphus Sonnets

/ Myth /

Sisyphus rolls the rock up the hill: but the rock rolls back down.

Sisyphus
thanx theonwardupwardjourney

So he rolls it up again, and it rolls back down.
Are we in the presence of an anthropocentric statement that gravity is a law? No exceptions?
Humans don’t like laws with no exceptions: kleptocrats like laws with 100% exceptions: no examples of the rule being true.

Camus’ book eclipsed nearly everything else when I was in college, 1956 ff, and existentialism, Sartre and Camus, seemed to be the hip philosophy.

But understand: I was a Christian: or thought I was, or tried to be, or meant to be: or at least tried to conceal my failures … Funny thing about a religion: you have to take the (seeming) believer‘s word for everything: the sinner tells you he’s saved; listen for God to confirm or deny and you don’t hear much beyond blood in your ears. Anyway, dig it, Sisyphus and his rock, his doom, his damnation (by Christian lights) seems the very antithesis of Judeo-Christian habits of belief. Monotheists normally profess to live in a positive world: God helps out, Jesus comes and saves you. It doesn’t matter how you’ve fucked up, you get the pie. In the sky. When you die.

It’s all very different if the world is rigged against you. Trickery, falsehood, deceit. The Devil! “Evil” with a “D”: like a French aristocrat.
(And never forget: evil is live spelled backwards!)

It’s been a long time since the caveman lived in a neutral universe: you stub your toe: Well, it happens: it doesn’t mean anything. Modern majorities don’t accept neutral philsophies, the kleptocrat bureaucracies, with their cops, and their spooks, con’t want you shrugging anyting off: Well, shit happens.

No. Taxes are best paid to an illumination of divine destiny: the reason we bomb the gooks is because God loves us, and wants to reward us, to favor us, wants us WASPs to own everything. And if it isn’t God, then it’s Abraham Lincoln. And if it isn’t Abraham Lincoln, then it’s the cookie-cut moron who ruled you in school.

Notice: Atlas holds the world up. It takes dedication, strength: but where’s the struggle? Where’s the failure? the futility? Very different myth.

God sent Jesus. Did he send Jesus so that a good man, a perfect man, the best man, ever, would expose the evil of human governments? Punctuate a joke about human justice? Was God being an ironist? Or was God displaying infinite sarcasm?

I’ll tie in the Sonnets after I breathe a moment.

Spelled Backwards
One of my dearest friends in college, fifteen when the rest of us were eighteen, got grades no one else had ever heard of: A+: there’s no such grade as A+! Anyway, Myron, before all that pot, then H, made his brain fail, used to pause a beat, then repeat what you had said, but backwards. Myron was always saying things backwards, spelling things backwards … And ridiculing all of our philosophies.

Scholarship

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Democratic Macbeth

/ Scholarship / K. Symbols /

Shakespeare’s tragedy is so well knows we don’t have to know it very well to understand it as a symbol: the witches tell Macbeth he’ll become king: but it’s his buddy who’ll father more kings. Macbeth doesn’t seem to have been greedy before he hears the forecast, but he gooses fate along: murders the reigning king Duncan when No-no-nO Duncan is a guest in his home. Now the whole country has to have a civil war, armies of men and politicians backing the cascading lies.

That’s about all you need to recognize to be true to ratify my use of the symbol. (On your own you should recognize the low esteem in which murdering your guest in held in religions all over the world. There’s hardly a hint of Christianity in Macbeth: quite the opposite: but even distant cousins of Semitic monotheism insist on feeding your guest for three days before you set the dogs on him.) My point is: complicity spreads. Once the public accepts social security from Macbeth’s White Castle, once roads are repaired by exploiting Macbeth’s prison system, railroading men in, spitting slaves out, each generation of the public will not only accept Macbeth as God’s representative on earth, will not only vote to ratify his position, but will vote to accept each lie as a fact.

Same without Macbeth. We kill Jesus and anyone like Jesus, then we rewrite the Bible to say the Jews did it. Basic rights will be withheld from all who don’t salute the flag, pop communion wafers five times an hour. Catch-22-Billion.

Democracy? tyranny? What’s the difference? There is none, not once the people are united in lies.

But the people being united is nothing compared to the bureaucracy once taxes come to depend on orthodox theology. The kleptocracy’s bureaucrats will double down on every fallacy.

As usual at K., more blab will accumulate as a scrapbook.

K. Symbols

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Infinite Knowledge

/ Writing / Letters /

Just wrote bk (& family), theMarcus:

another word, two more words, on BBC math:

In the last chapter of The Story of Maths Marcus du Sautoy talks about the mathematicians who stepped into infinity, and he gives a strong rhetorical statement from one of them, David Hilbert, buying faith in human cognition:

We must know, we will know.

but along the say we arrive at Godel, who said We don’t know and we can’t know.

dandy: I’ve always been a Godelian, taught by the Hilbertians, long before I ever heard of any of them.

anyway, at the end of the BBC series, Marcus looks in the camera and repeats the positive faith statement: We must know, we will know.

I of course am reminded of Bucky Fuller’s story about the army deciding it wanted to subsidize genius. the conventional wisdom said give millions to MIT. They interviews Novel prize winners. the common thread seemed to be Genius X went to a small libert arts college, say Hamilton, and his Freshman English prof said blah blah, and Genius X, ten years later, invented the “transistor”.
So, did the army give millions to English instructors at Hamilton? No, they gave millions to MIT.
Buddy said, The refused to learn what they had learned!!!

But, I promised two things. Thing #2: the Maths thing uses Dr. Who‘s music!

An earlier email had mentioned the Story of Maths show. But these are subjects I’ve been talking to bk about all his life: half a century.
Posting the email I correct some small amount of the technical “style”: italics, etc.

I’ve silently corrected attributions and quotes above.

PS I got wrapped up in infinities in the seventh grade, thank you, Mr. Bell. I got turned off all over math teachers in the ninth grade, no idea or interest in her name: government coerced evil.

PPS At Princeton Einstein was Godel’s best friend. How could that have been? Einstein was one of the dyed in the wool optimists: expected the universe to make sense. Just realized: all this stuff predates the absurdists: Beckett, etc. And Douglas Adams.

PPPS bk introduced me to Douglas Adams, also BBC, and to Dr. Who! ditto.

Writing

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Thrown Games

/ Movies /

Game of Thrones, scrap string

I ordered episodes I & II last week, timing it to coincide with Jan’s absence for Mothers Day. Maybe she’d like it, but I was taking no chances. But then I was stuck with it.

Like, Love, Hate
Not too many minutes into it I thought, I’ve seen this before: oh, groan, what dreck. The real shock came when I realized that I’d seen it only a few months ago: and, that I wrote on it! Old farts lose their licence to drive: we should also lose our license to blog: but not if our writing has been sabotaged, censored, not if we’ve been jailed and folks still don’t know what for, the society being incapable of honesty on any issue, especially freedom from coercion.
Now I further see that I rated Game of Thrones three starts this past January. No: if I really hated it, I would have marked it one star, or not marked it at all: zero stars.

Never mind what I wrote then, I’ll repeat important points here, in time. And what triggers this rant now is something I failed to comment on then:
Warriors come upon a young man raving. He says he just encountered some Ghost Zombies. (I don’t remember what he called them, and I’m not going back to find out! So I make up a name, a symbol.)
He’s dragged before a king as a deserter: the king has to kill him, but is uneasy about the zombies.
(Side admission: the movie is full of beef, and bosom, and ass. Up to a point that’s a virtue.)

The Vikings say, “There are no Ghost Zombies south of the wall.” Again, I don’t remember the phrase, but the flick is full of pregnant sounding terms: and feudal lords ready to commit suicide by ignoring warnings. So: what we’ve got here is a good horror movie disguized as a Viking movie.
Now, think with me for a minute:
What if we’re NYC cops, patrolling Fifth Avenue. Somebody runs up, says “I just saw a grizzly bear two blocks north of here”. Do you correct this testimony by reciting bear demographics? Do you refute the report with a faith that grizzlies don’t come as far east as NYC? Or do you immediately radio the zoo and see if any bear cages have been left open? Or maybe you should first question whether this clown can tell a brown bear from a black bear from a grizzly. No, you’re first worry should be whether there are bears on the loose, even if it’s claimed as a panda.

Well, another minute doesn’t pass before King and company happen on the ripped open corpse of a “dire-wolf” There’s the corpse, on the ground, identified as a dire-wolf dam by the Vikings present: and there are surviving pups: half a dozen infant dire-wolves. But what does some lieutenant say? “There are no dire-wolves south of the wall”!!!

Instantly the dumbest twelve year old in the audience recognizes this society as exactly like our “real” society. we’d rather correct and execute a news bringer than listen to and then test the news! Cops could radio the zoo, cops could walk to the zoo, looking for carnage, listening for screams … But real cops will mock the witness, keep their eyes glued firmly shut.

what I commented on in January primarily had to do with gender roles in this imaginary feudal society: imagined with a full complement of violence and a full complement of tush, and, quite refreshing a total absence of Christianity: these dudes do not turn any cheeks let alone the “other cheek”.

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Ordered Order

/ Politics / Anarchism /

False Choice
Pick a card, any card. The magician fans the deck under your nose. (Here, pick a card: pick the card I’m forcing into your hand. You’re resisting the force, then pick this alternate card I’m also forcing near your hand.
Democracy means “Pick Government”. Pick coercive control. Pick rape of the commons (and call it “Green”).
My girl friend avidly watches everything having to do with the election. When I roll my eyes she concludes aloud that “I’m not interested”. What could be further from the truth: I just despaire that sense will ever be heard in a society dedicated to profit, luxury, privilege even when the bill clearly reads “Your life”; “everyone’s life”, “nearly all life”.
Anyway last week some commentator said that “ironically” the “anarchists” were very well organized. No, it would be ironic if anarchists were against order; but, speaking for myself, THIS anarchist is for order but against government order!
We live in a universe of order. If there are any other choices we don’t know what they are, can’t know: the big bang was a choice: a choice that’s thus far lasted 14 billion years.
Choosing Democrat or Republican is not choosing order over disorder, it’s ratifying big government over Big Government. It’s like choosing Nitti over Capone: it is Not choosing free enterprise.

Two thousand years ago we put up with Caesar’s Rome over the natural world. The Christian story has Jesus offering a different choice: divinity over secular kleptocracy in the person of Rome (and Rome’s person, Tiberius Caesar). Rome had its superstitions – I don’t think too many caesars took them too literally – never forget Julius was pope of Rome’s religion before he was Caesar over Rome’s politics! Notice though, accepting Roman rule had already been a choice for dictated kleptocracy over Nature (find your own wife, your own shelter, your own food: don’t murder every competitor).
In America we may vote for Cladius instead of Caligula, but …
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a cave man. No, no: that would have been a real choice. Real choice has never been available (not even to the cavemen).

What right have I to speak? Why should you ever have listened? No reason: no reason which isn’t already too late. I taught global warming, not as a fact but as a danger which should be noticed, in the 1960s. I got sabotaged. Eleven of twenty-five professors were fired in 1969 for criticizing (by grouped silence!) US behavior in southeast Asia. The schools are there to train gerbils, not to debate philosophy. The other ten teachers may have scrambled around for other jobs, jobs at which they would have known better than to say a single word not already bleached orthodox, government endorsed science a la Lysenko; I chose instead to join Ivan Illich (1970) in offering a cybernetic free marketplace (the Free Learning Exchange). People who wanted freedom, intelligently, were there any, “would” have supported FLEX. “You” didn’t! Even my wife dumped me: but she wasn’t the deschooler; I was.
We had no real choice then, not even with FLEX, the dice were already cast, had been when Jesus was supposed to have offered an alternative to Caesar. The choices were made before Adam and Eve were born.

But then even kleptocracy is an illusion. The funny thing about Judgment is that no one will be aware when it comes, no one will know what happened. We won’t know we’ve been engulfed by global warming, by Big Brother, by Democracy, by suicide-bent magicians. We’ll believe what we see on TV: until we’re all dead.

Personal Note
I love Jan, I can’t do without her. I’ve volunteered to be tarred and featherd, crucified all my life, till now. I’m 77, going blind, deaf. Now my kidneys aren’t what they were. I’m ready to die at any time, but not to be sick while I die. Thus: I don’t argue with Jan over every little thing. I don’t argue with Jan over every big thing. She’s a Republican, she’s an American, she values her property, her properties: current property and inheritance laws, current laws that destroy the earth: in other words her double vision is normal: among Americans, among Republicans. She knuckled under to the Church when she accepted Dr. D.I.’s proposal of marriage, she “converted”. So, since the early 1950s she’s been a Roman Catholic. But she doesn’t believe in Original Sin! at least she doesn’t think it applies to her!
But who in the Church does? The Church teaches that we’re all fallen, that we’re all irrational, that we’re all liars, cheats … but somehow the Church can be trusted!!!
Anyway: Jan was wildly for Donald Trump a couple of months ago. She didn’t want to know why I wasn’t. And, if she doesn’t already know, hasn’t already read what I’ve written, heard what I’ve said, understood what I offered … knows but doesn’t know who Ivan Illich is … then what can I possibly say now?

I meant FLEX to be a choice for life, for free choice, for real, cybernetic, not fraudulent democracy; now I just see it as another in an infinite series of failures, the marks don’t really have choice, only fraudulent choice. We lost the game a long time ago. But soon, inevitably, inexorably, Jan became embarrassed by Trump. Has grown silent. She wanted to like Cruz, but …
But I love her. I can’t do without her. I’m tired of being tarred and feathered, crucified. Now I’ll be as alacritous with hypocricy as any other. I didn’t want to be a schmuck, I wanted to be a martyr, but now, now I’m a schmuck. Time will tell how much of a martyr I still am.

Time will tell? Time may tell, but can it tell anyone who can hear?

Anarchism Scrapbook

The above is already a scrapbook, as is much of K. It’s one of those posts that can go on and on, but shouldn’t need to. The truth, truths, are implicit, whether well or ill-expressed, whether or not any hearing, any potential understanding, is at hand.

Politics Quotes

Politics

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Poison Mushrooms

/ Stories by Age / Multiple Ages /

I’ve long loved mushrooms, it seems like “always”. Like most Americans I only knew the mushrooms that one could buy in the store: the mushrooms that one expected in restaurants. I was near thirty when that changed for the first time.

Teaching at Colby College in Waterville Maine I had the privilege of skiing with a couple of really good skiers. One was my student, already a ski pro at Sugarloaf. Buzz was blazing fast, bold beyond sanity, carried scars from major racing accidents. One tree had pierced him like a spear, carrying his spleen out the other side. No, no: the spleen is supposed to be inside the body; not outside in the forest!

The other was my buddy Hubert, German, German professor, professor of German. Buzz and Hubbie both taught in the Sugarloaf ski school. Hubert was grace and perfection: the most lyric skier I’ve ever known well. He helped to develop my skiing, but not by constantly niggling me about details. Hubbie was my great teacher thanks to a very reserved pool of teaching tools. One, he simply let me ski with him, try to keep up. Two, and key, once and only once was there a “lesson” delivered in words. Hubbie said, “You know, if you cut a quarter inch off your ski poles, it might help you get your weight forward for the pole plant”: and he demonstrated. I saw like never before that he planted his pole way-forward by the tip. My skiing, already pretty good for a mostly self-taught adult-beginner, was instantly transformed. My rhythm, my edging, my saftey improved in a leap. I don’t think I ever did actually trim the poles, the length was trivial: it was getting my weight moved ever forward that elevating my skiing. Forward, face the downhill, attack the danger, edge against it.

Anyway Hubbie and I joined the Colby people climbing Mount Katahdin for the weekend, 1968 or so.

Mount Katahdin
thanx scenicusa

Hilary packed us a beautiful sirloin and a pound of butter. Hubbie had said that we’d pick mushrooms on the ascent, eat them with steak after our descent. Hubbie said that he didn’t know mushrooms in general but he did trust he ability to recognize a particular species of them regarded as safe in Germany. One here, one there, by the time was completed the ascent we had way more than a couple of pounds of them. We gorged on them. Binged.

OK. So on a couple of other occasions, camped among mountains, I tried studying the mushrooms I saw, tried to identify them against a field guide from the Hunter NY library. I’m still alive, survived whatever poisons I may have ingested, till I arrived, by bewildering accident, in Sebring FL: 1989, 1990 … And here, popping out of the ground right in front of my tent-trailer, were gorgious cream and tan capped mushrooms. I bollowed the Sebring Library mushroom field guide, tried my damndest to be careful, and judging it safe, I ate one. A big one. Again, with steak.

And that’s my story. Except for the punchline. Further purusing of the field guide led me to conclude that my own campsite mushroom was not the mushroom I thought safe, but a similar looking species marked as poisonous.

Now, there’s a more subtle lesson here riding piggyback: mark that phrase – “marked as poisonous”: “marked as”.
Do we live in a world with perfect markings? Starting when?
Labels and prejudice don’t separate well. We have different expectations for wogs and WASPs. Jack the Ripper flourished because clearly his victims did not mark him as dangerous: the whores saw a “gentleman”; not a slasher coming toward them. How many black guys on the street get shrunk from? We survive by assessing probabilities, but our assessments are imperfect. We presume the cute puppy is not vicious, we presume the rat is vicious. Experience and statistics don’t match. We are always forced to decide ahead of not after the outcome.

In other words: we’re prejudiced against mushrooms, we presume them guilty, not innocent.

Furthermore, because of that prejudice, our official labelers, doctors, nurses, government bureaucrats … teachers … More Jews get labeled by Nazis than Nazies get labeled by Jews.
Furthermore still: humans exaggerate “dangers” survived. I wade fish, the water is full of snakes. I hear people in the boat, especially “twelve year old” boys, say “that’s a water moccasin!” No it isn’t: it’s a brown banded water snake. The twelve year old wants to be thought of as having survived a trecherous strech of life: more likely he survived an ordinary stretch of life.

The woman comes out of the ER claiming that the doctors told her she’d narrowly avoided death. … The doctors belong at comic.con. Masked adventurers all. Soldiers, cops, priests, would have you believe that you owe them our very life.

Our life is an adventure, and we are the hero.

Stories by Theme by Age
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