Judging Wealth

Recreating (and advancing) pk’s censored domains: Macroinformation.org & Knatz.com / Personal / Writing / Ideas /

I’ve written a few novels, long short stories, and quite a few more short stories. There’s no counting how many I’ve thought of that I never wrote. Some of the latter I do have notes on: even data bases. Knatz.com introduces a few unrealized ideas, mentioned in connection with the subjects of this and that module. Were I to survey them (which I intend to do and link them here), I suspect I’d find the majority to fit with my heaven / hell and judgment theme. Today’s idea in that vein gets oh-so-briefly sketched here today since I thought of it in terms of a favorite painting.

My original Judgment Day story is a key to much pk writing and thinking. I recommend that the visitor know at least that God arrives: God manifests as Jesus: loving, compassionate, forgiving … But: as Jesus recounts the crimes against him, recalls the effort by which he restrained himself, Jesus ages, grows grim. Devils erupt from the ground and start tormenting everyone. But the moments-ago-loving Jesus, who’s turned into a vengeful Jehovah, has now degenerated into a onanizing baboon. A wise but weary voice fills everyone’s mind:

Cool it, Satan.
Stop fucking with my people.

Most of my “creative” writing had that theme: there is a truth, an order, but humans have no reliable contact with it: gadding after every delusion. Still, if there’s mind in the universe, and it cares about chemical-based sentience, then it had better do something to help us survive: because we’re doom-fixed.

Blume, Eternal City
Peter Blume, Eternal City
Museum of Modern Art, NYC
thanx all-art

For my current doom idea, let me first tell that I’ve known Peter Blume’s painting Eternal City since I was fifteen. If I didn’t see it on my first visit to MOMA, I’d certainly seen it by my second. [note]

Suddenly everyone agrees: priests, numerologists, astrologers … even hard scientists: God’s on his way, Judgment is at hand … And, uh oh, God’s agenda will emphasize theft. At first blush, everyone agrees with his yesterday consciousness: I’m no thief, I ought to be alright. Then, the borders of confidence begin to wear. Uh, didn’t we buy stock in that company that somebody says bribed the patent office to ignore the inventor? Uh oh, didn’t we take our territories by violence, by lying? Didn’t we hold them by war: and more lying?

Everyone scrambles to divest himself of all his wealth. Anyone caught owning anything questionable goes to hell. Suddenly, what’s questionable is everything. Everyone runs his silverware over to the church. But the Church is just as busily stripping its altar, its wine cellar, and dumping everything on the homeless: who, less well fed, don’t have equal strength to shove it back.

Jesus appears. He’s skinny. He’s bleeding. He’s still got blood dripping into his eyes from the crown of thorns. Everybody, the priests, the stockbrokers, the homeless, dump everything onto Jesus.

Ah. But in the denouement …

The Patent Office
2016 08 21 I know a great example today that I didn’t know the specifics of when I wrote the above: the US Patent Office gave Tessla’s patents on radio to Marconi! A sane civilization would have paid Tessla and Marconi: and all the guys working on better clocks so longitude could be estimated. See? The fault is in our assumption that there’s only one of something: one God, etc. One big bang, one revolution, one Christ. Not in Hinduism.

Notes

MOMA:

I remember spending long minutes of my first visit teasing out the minutiae of Pavel Tchelichew’s Hide and Seek. I’m confident that I would have associated the Blume work with it had I noticed it on that occasion. Since I didn’t, I suspect that similar time was spent with that painting on my second visit.

Do you remember how comics would have find-the-hidden-whatever-in-this-drawing sections? I found the Tchelichew opus to be far and away better at that shtick than I’d ever imagined.

 

My friend Anton used my confession that I’d been fascinated by that painting to “prove” that I had “bad taste.”

Writing

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About pk

Seems to me that some modicum of honesty is requisite to intelligence. If we look in the mirror and see not kleptocrats but Christians, we’re still in the same old trouble.
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