Madison's and Mackenzie's "Shopping Spree Spectacular"

 Beep! Beep! Beep!  The alarm clock showed midnight.  I bounded out of bed, full of excitement.

"This is my favorite day of the whole year, I get to shop until I drop," I yelled.

Mackenzie, on the other hand, refused to budge.  She was still asleep.

"Do I have to go shopping?" said Mackenzie, still half asleep.

I gave her a look that told her she has to come.   So Mackenzie reluctantly dragged herself to the car, while I gabbed my purse and my coat.  My mom met us in the car and in no time we were on our way to heaven--more commonly known as the Water Tower Mall.

"Now girls, once we get there you girls have to stick together at all times," said Mom.  "Also, no fighting, you know what happens when you two fight."

I looked over at Mackenzie who as usual was ignoring me and was staring off into space.

"I cannot believe Mackenzie doesn't even care about this most special day of the year," I thought to myself.

At the mall, all the stores were having huge sales, and I was in a state of ecstatic bliss.   I went into Victoria's Secret Pink to get the 30 dollar half zip and the legging set, dragging Mackenzie along.  I offered to get Mackenzie something but she was just waiting to go to  Forever 21 for a grey sweater.

We shopped for another 3 hours going from store to store.  At Kate Spade, they were having an awesome sale, half off the sale items.  Wasting no time, I bought a black purse and a pink sparkly wallet.

For our grand finale we went to our favorite store which was Forever 21.  There was a huge line to get into the store because of the door busters.  I had a wonderful recurring dream where I won a shopping spree here.  Maybe this would be the year that my dream finally comes true!

"I am so excited to shop here, " I told Mackenzie.

"Whatever.  I want to leave this line.  Its too long and this is boring," Mackenzie replied.

"Are you serious?  Why are you acting this way?"

"I don't understand why people spend so much money on clothes when people in Africa are starving," Mackenzie stated.

"What is wrong with you?  This day is very important to me," I said, moving up to the front of the line.

"Whatever," Mackenzie replied.

I became furious and lost control.   Yelling at Mackenzie, I told her that I would force her to go in, even if she didn't want to go.   Then I pushed her to the front of the line and into the store.

When Mackenzie entered the store, lights began flashing and confetti burst from the ceiling.  Loud celebratory music erupted from all around.

"Congratulations," said the store manager approaching here with open arms. "You are the 100th customer to enter this store on Black Friday and you win a free shopping spree! Everything in the store is free for you in the next 10 minutes.

"What is your name?" said the store manager.

I was about to tell the store manager my name, but to my horror no one was looking at me.  They were all congratulating Mackenzie.  How could this be true? It was my dream to win the prize, not hers.  How could she do this to me?

However, even in my state of extreme disappointment and shock, like a trooper I focused my attention on the prize.  Even if I didn't win, Mackenzie could still buy everything for me.   After all, I was her sister, right?  She wouldn't spoil my fantasy.   I quickly made out a shopping list for her and handed it to her with precise instructions on what to buy.   I gave her the list and told her to hurry.

Ten minutes pass..........

Mackenzie returned and I was expecting to see a shopping cart full of precious cargo.  You can image my disappointment when she returned carrying only one item, a grey sweater.   I just about died.   I couldn't believe my eyes.

"You are so selfish, I wanted nothing more than what was on the list," I shouted.  But before I knew it I was on the ground, Mackenzie had tackled me.

Paul, the mall cop came running toward us trying to break up the fight.  He put both of us in handcuffs and escorted us into the mall prison and locked the cell.  It was torture being with Mackenzie then.  We had to stay in the same cell for three hours until Paul returned.

"Your Mom posted bail and you girls are free to go now," said Paul with a straight face.

Mom, however, was furious with us.  She threatened to take away my shopping privileges for an entire year.  Mackenzie just sat there, smiling the entire time.

Shopping is a game.   And I just lost.

I Challenge Donald Trump to Debate me on the Subject of Why he is not Fit to be President

1.  He is not fit to run his own company, not to mention America.  Now I realize there is a certain attraction with Donald Trump among some voters because he is a "business" person and not a career politician.  And that argument would have some charm, if he were indeed a good business person.   But he is not, and if his corporation had stockholders, he would certainly be booted out after his recent comments which alienated many of his corporation's customers.

His comments singling out Muslims for entry into the United States immigration process has affected his corporations' customer base world wide, especially in predominately Muslim countries.  Such comments are certainly counterproductive to marketing efforts seeking to create an image equating Trump's name with American luxury in countries such as the United Emirates, Turkey, Indonesia and Azerbaijan.  (click here for citation)  His exchange of tweets with the Saudi prince isn't helping either.  (citation) If an American CEO made similar comments affecting such an important client base world wide, he or she would likely be shown the door.

Indeed, even his business record may be called into question.  His companies have gone through at least four bankruptcies. (citation). Many have called into question the accounting practices of his recent incarnation.  (citation).

2.  How can Trump defend the U.S. Constitution when his remarks are directly counter to the spirit of the First Amendment?  The President is required to take an oath of  office swearing to support and defend the Constitution of the United States.  Including the First Amendment.  The First Amendment states that the United States will not invoke any law interfering with the free exercise of religion.   Hell, the United States was founded by a bunch of people escaping religious discrimination.  How then could we ever enact (which Trump is apparently advocating) a law singling out discrimination against Muslims?  It freaking boggles the mind.  I know he is doing it for what he perceives is short term political gain, but if you think it through, his statements run contrary to the very principles upon which this nation is founded.

3.  He is not fit to lead the Republican party, not to mention the United States. After the 2012 election, the Republican  National Committee hired consultants to develop a strategy on how to make the Republican Party more successful in the future. (citation)  In short, the findings were that the Republicans needed to do more outreach to Latino communities and women.  Trump's emergence for the time being cannot but help but to alienate and divide people, including Latinos and women. Latinos and women are the future of American politics in many ways. Trump is an archaic remnant of the dark-side of the American past--not its future.

4.  He is not fit to lead the grand experiment that is America.  His comments run counter to the very soul of America.  America, at its core is the unparalleled experiment in world history where disparate ethnicities have merged into a single country.  The great melting pot.  In a way, the United States is a microcosm of the world. If we succeed in living in harmony, it bodes well for the rest of the world. His comments run counter to this very grand experiment immortalized on the Statute of Liberty:

The New Colossus
BY EMMA LAZARUS

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

5. Donald Trump could not even own an NBA team in the United States, not to mention be President. Remember Donald Sterling, the owner for the Los Angeles Clippers who was fired after his racist remarks last year?  He told a female friend not to associate with black people like Magic Johnson for a variety of racist reasons.  Donald Trump's comments suggesting that American's should not associate with Muslim refugees solely on the basis of religious affiliation strikes me as similarly discriminatory.  If he were an NBA owner in my league, he would be given the boot. 

Happy Holidays to your and Yours.  

Dreaming of Uncertainty Principles

In the land of Nod, she began life in a relaxed lucid dream, much as her mother and grandmother before her.

There are only two forces, you see, which act to shape human beings:  nature and the environment.   And since the personality is largely formed during the first three years of life, it is the environment which is paramount.

Not so in the land of Nod, where dreams can be controlled by the dreamer. As such, the effect of the environment on the personality is negligible.  An after thought.  What is important are desires. Because desires in the land of Nod are endlessly fulfilled, the quality of desires determines the character of the individual.

But in all lands, even Nod, there are rules.

Most of her prison term in the land of Nod was served in Mimizon where the beds are small and uncomfortable.  Nevertheless, in Mimizon, she had wild adventures in the four corners of the realm and intrigue with the most handsome men.  She also vowed to the warden at the appointed times that she would never again dream the forbidden.  But still she stayed and was not be released.

In her dreams, her bed was a magical bed and in the bed she could produce anyone she desired, and interact with them.  But objects began to appear that she could not control.  One of the most persistent object was a white tree.  The tree beckoned to her, but she knew better than to listen to the objects in her dreams for it was written that voices in dreams are the path of nightmares.

"You are alone," said the tree.  I live as one with all objects around me.  Forgetting an individualized self, you discover the totality of who you are.  Love is forgetting your self.  Set aside you worldly desires." And so forth.

And there was a certain element of truth to what the tree said.  For she knew this was the Pando tree, the largest organism in the land of wakefulness.  And the tree was not alone, but part of a gigantic collective of one common root.  And for many years she avoided its call.

I'm not sure what pushed her to the brink.  When we are under stress we take drastic steps and throw caution to to the wind--perhaps regretting it later--perhaps not.  She might have been drunk.  Every dreamer eventually wakes up.  Or do they?

Will it settle or wont it settle. The flame of enthusiasm burns low   Maybe the author should take up a different future 

Rebel Rebel You've Torn Your Dress

When I get pissed off I just want to screw the establishment.  All those fat cats sitting around doing nothing, getting rich off the average Joe.   I'm not so sure what was pissing me off about the NFL, but I decided to do something about it.  And money was no obstacle.  Because I'm fabulously rich. Really.  And I think somewhere along the line I used to own an NFL team or two. Maybe I was just the General Manager of one of them.  I can't remember.   But what I do remember is that I have all kinds of money and I was really pissed at the NFL for the way it treated one of its openly gay coaches who came out of the closet and was ostracized by the NFL and its fans.  So I decided to do something about it.

The coach and me were sitting at a table at the Village Inn in Gillette, Wyoming.  I had invited him there because I wanted to hire him.  That would show the NFL.  Fuck them, I would bring the gay coach back.  I told the coach my plans.  I wanted to hire him for the new N.F.L. franchise team I was going to set up in Memphis, Tennessee.  So I started to tell the coach my plan:

"Look ______, (insert Coach's name--I can't remember what his name is but I'm sure you remember him--he was the one kicked off his team for being gay), you will have complete control of the football operations and player personnel.   I mean, I can handle the General Manager piece if you want to be the coach, or you can hire a head coach--whoever you want--and be the GM.  I just want to impress upon you that you will have complete control of the organization.  I mean I'm not going to be one of those owners like Jerry Jones who sticks is dick into everything and doesn't let the coaches coach.  I'll give you as much support as you want.   If you want me to be the GM and you be head coach, that's also fine.   You know more about the scouting operations than I do.  What is important is that you set up a team with anyone you want on it.  The best that money can buy.  And I don't care if they are all gay--we call the team the Memphis Fairies.  I just want to get back at the NFL.  I want your team to kick ass!

Well, even though the coach and I had a table by ourselves, I wondered if the people around us could hear us.  The Coach is wildly famous.  His excommunication from the NFL was front page news.    I could tell that everyone around us was listening in.  When the coach saw that everyone in the restaurant was eavesdropping, his speech changed to this high pitched accent that sounded just like a woman.   I told him that if he talked like that he would definitely create a stir at team press conferences.  Let them talk about that on ESPN.   Fuck them all anyway.

After we had finished our dinner, the door to the kitchen opened and we were motioned to descend down a stairway at the back of the restaurant.  One of the waiters warned us not to get too close to the cook, "stay away from him, he might hurt you."

"Fuck him," I replied.  "I'm far past doing anyone any good, and he's far past doing anyone any harm.  Its my coach you should worry about.   He might change you perspective on reality if you get too close to him."  

With that, the staff cowered away and we proceeded into the basement.  Though the ceiling was low, we could see a variety of crates, widely scattered, each containing a single dog.  But these were no ordinary dogs.   Their heads were misshapen as the growths that appear on old trees with jaws that could sever a man's leg's with a mouthful.  The din of the barking was incredible.

"Now you see my friend," I told the coach,  "My new training ground.  I will stop at nothing to get back at the NFL.  I'm not sure why I carry this vendetta against them, but I do, and I will pull out all the stops to get the first gay team into the Super Bowl.  
.
Incidentally, I'm not sure if the Village Inn is still there, but if it is, it was the Village Inn on that road that goes from the east side of Gillette to the Wyodak coal mine and power plant.  State Route 51.  My grandfather and I used to drive me there all the time when I was young and my parents were out of town.   You can read about that by clicking here.   I wonder if the Village Inn is still there?   Let me check on Google maps right now to see if the Village Inn still exits and give you the address.  (here insert a pause while I conduct an Internet search of Village Inn, Gillette, Wyoming).  Nope, the Village Inn does not exit anymore, at least at that location.  And the Wyodak mine is now Pacific Gas and Electric.  But that is of no consequence to this story.  It may be interesting though that I took to coach to the same restaurant that my Grandfather took me.  But my advice is not too look too deeply into such things.

Damn Confused Fornicating Wasps

Before we get to the wasps, I would like to make a public service announcement.  Specifically, this is Tim McCarty from the Indiana State Police.   We are going to pretend we are at the half time of a Notre Dame Football game.   "When you are have a Thanksgiving dinner, don't drink a whole bottle of Spanish wine.   Especially if you are a lightweight.   And you know who you are.   I know you have a thing for Spanish wine, and you are stressed out about getting ready for the trial and want to take various people's heads off at work, but do the right thing and just skip the wine.  Go back to your Muse meditation portable EEG brainwave monitor. The world will thank you for it."

However, lets assume for a minute that you didn't follow the State Troopers' advice and had your Spanish wine.  You then pick up the book of your life, and start to read its well creased and worn pages stained with all manner of colorful sticky substances.

"Its a somewhat interesting story, but don't expect a sequel," says a shimmering prismatic light in front of you.

You hold up the book.  "I don't want it to end.  All the characters die in the end."

"Ah, you have developed an attachment to the plot and its characters.  That's touching."

"Even you Mr. Light.  You stop at the end as well.  Frida Frank dies in a fire, George Helmcloth takes a bus and is never seen from again."

The prismatic light smiles, "But if you start the book again we'll all be back.   Even Frida, George, and Alfredo."

"Honest?"

"Certainly," continues the light.  "Its the same with you, Mike.   You're may not realize it yet, but its the same with you."

Now on to the wasps.   Wasps are freaking idiots.  Not all wasps.  Just certain species of male wasps. Simply put, they seem to like fucking orchid flowers more than female wasps.  How that makes sense from an evolutionary stand point you got me.  Kinda curbs the enthusiasm as well who those that think that the universe was created by some sort of divine or intelligent creator.  Now I'm sure there will be those that say it fits into some sort of evolutionary design that the orchids get pollen spread by fornicating wasps so it fits some sort of purpose, but really?  A wasp that prefers flowers over female wasps?  Who are you crapping?

Even Darwin was kinda tripped out over seeing the wasps go at it.  He was puzzled over the observation  of frequent ‘attacks’ made upon orchids by their pollinators. ‘What this sentence means I cannot conjecture,’ he declared.

What is it that attracted the wasps?  I mean, sure, the pink labellum of the small tongue orchid curves upwards, studded with two rows of shiny dark spots.  And it kinda sounds erotic to say that, but come on, how could wasps be so confused?  The orchids also produce no nectar or edible material. The wasps in are also normally predators, hunting caterpillars and other larvae.

It turns out on closer examination that to the male wasp, the orchid looks exactly like a female wasp, mimicking the precise dimensions and shape of the female's body. The reflections of ultra violet light to which wasps are so sensitive, resemble almost exactly the wings of female wasps and the shape and size of the female's abdomen. The orchid even has tactile features that either stimulate the male wasp into mating or guide his body into the correct position.  Woo hoo!

Then comes the clincher:  the odor produced by the orchid exactly mimics the sex pheromone of the female wasp.  Signed sealed and delivered.  The poor dumb fuckers don't have a chance. Beware the ravenous orchid, ye male wasps or you will be condemned to a life of pseudocopulation.

Of course, you can wonder how evolution would have developed such a weird state of appliances for the orchid.  But maybe its not too unusual.  Think of all the dumb human male fuckers who do the same thing with even less enticing sex objects and pornography.  Indeed, if you had a chance to visit the St. Louis Museum of Contemporary Art a few months ago they had an exhibit where female (and male) sex dolls were decorated as an art form.  Check this out here. 

At perennial artisan ale after psycheuphora induced float.  Ho hum thanksgiving otherwise.  See above

Precious Wax Drippings

I have heard that it's not wise to believe in myths.  Especially Greek myths.  Take the myth of Icarus. Daedalus and his son  Icarus were imprisoned by King Minos of Crete within the Labyrinth--which Daedalus had himself constructed. But Daedalus was crafty and fashioned two pairs of wings together with feathers, wood and wax for an aerial escape. Giving one pair to his son, Daedalus cautioned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun which would cause the wax to melt.  But Icarus became ecstatic with the ability to fly and failed to heed his father's warning.   His feathers melted with the sun and he plunged to his death in the sea.

Fact or Fiction?  Well we do know that there was a very strange band in Chicago in the 1980s named "Precious Wax Drippings".   I wonder if there was any connection.  Probably not.  But that doesn't make the melted wax from Icarus' wings any less precious.

The wax that melted from Icarus' wings dripped into what is now the Adriatic Sea and congealed into priceless gems that remain undiscovered to this day.  Some say the wax had magical powers.  I doubt it.  The wax certainty never helped Icarus.  However, I would have liked to have been there and collected the last drop of wax from Icarus' wing.  I'm into the final drops of a passing event.  There is something poignant about them:  the last bit of drippings squeezed out of a fruit, the last drop of an evening rain shower, the last tear, or the last drop of Brunello in a Reidel glass. The final drops of mortality.   After the last drop; what are you left with?  Perhaps the following:

Susie Doodlevector was repulsed by the man slobbering on her shoulder even before she knew he was dying.  She wondered what he was doing at this high school play.

"My dear," the old man rasped, "do you have a child in this production?".

"Yes," replied Susie.  "My daughter is the director and set designer.  She's also arranged for the caterers for the reception.  I think my other daughter is involved in registering voters during intermission. Why do you ask?"

"Wonderful," the old man continued, moving in closer.  "I want to get closer to you and feel your warmth.   But I feel if I get too close to you I will start to melt from your furnace."

Before Susie could recoil in disgust, the man continued:  "My dear, I fear that I do not have long for this world.  But I sense that you control my passage into the next.  You are Charon, ferryman (ferryperson) to guide me across the river Styx and my destiny."

"If what you say is true, old man, where is your coin for passage?" retorted Susie.

"I have no coin, mistress, but please show mercy upon me, a sinner."

"I have no regard for mercy," replied Susie.  "In fact, if you look at my Myers-Briggs Jungian profile, I am more impressed by Truth and Justice than mercy."

"How unfortunate for me," replied the man, eyes downcast.

"Let us speak of the Truth," continued Susie. "If you say the Truth, you will get to pass.  I will take you to your destination in Hades.  But you may be disappointed, for have you not read Dante?  In any event, if you do not tell me the Truth, I shall cast you out in the transitional space.  And mark my words, the transitional space is very scary.   It has been described by a devout Christian Yoga teacher I know of in a Panther Creek basement as the space between the ashram and the stairs leading up to her idea of fundamentalist Christian Kingdom."

"Ok, I get your point," said the Man.  "I shall speak the speak the truth.  The Truth is that you will throw me into the abyss of the transitional space."

"Very clever," replied Susie. "You think that I cannot throw you into the transitional space, because if I did, I would violate my promise to you to let you pass if you speak the Truth.  On the other hand, you probably believe that if I allow you to pass, it would mean that you spoke an untruth by stating that I would cast you into the abyss."

"Indeed," cried the man, "It appears that in my last gasp of life I have put you into something of a paradox.  Maybe I should use this opportunity to spread my wings and get closer to you, my goddess."

"Not so fast, for I'm afraid I'm going to have to shoot you down.  Your statement that I was going to cast you into the abyss is not a statement of the present Truth.   It is a statement of a possible future contingent of what I may or may not do.  A proposition is true only if it is verified by the state of things as they currently are.   Or to quote Jim Morrison, whom I once had dealings, `The future is uncertain, but the end is always near' and you my friend are at your end."

And with that, the man collapsed into Susie's arms.  A small bit of drool collecting on her lapel, which she collected into a small vial, satisfied with her specimen.

The cardiologist standing next to Susie took no action to save the man--though it was clear to all observers that his heart had stopped.

Barnie and Fifi Fife, Edwardsville's finest  go well beyond even Rick Ranger in Responding to those damn fornicators!

  

  

You're the One that I Want

All through that fateful summer, Sandy had chills multiplying up and down her spine during her many encounters with Danny Zuko. Zuko too thought that the power Sandy was supplying was electrifying. It was young love at its finest, and it was appreciated both near and far.  Especially far, as their relationship soon had many extraterrestrial admirers who studied the mating rituals of humans with an interest akin to fanatical ornithologists.

Summer turned to fall and the years breezed by.  Danny grew discontent and began to question his place in the universe.  Had he know about the alien observers, he could have asked them about his place in the universe and obtained helpful information.  Instead, he turned to L. Ron Hubbard and the Church of Scientology for answers. This proved disastrous, especially when Zuko brought L. Ron to a meeting of the T-Birds and both Danny and L. Ron were unceremoniously banned from further gang activities.  Zuko then tried a comeback with the rival gang the Flaming Dukes.  Though their initial foray against the T-Birds (supported in part by Zuko's Boeing 707) was successful, the T-Birds decisively defeat Zuko and the Flaming Dukes at the Battle of the Battle of Irrigation Gulch in 2002.   After that defeat, a dejected Zuko turned to drugs, alcohol, roles as women in B-movie Hollywood productions.

The passing of time was also not kind to Sandy.  With Zuko otherwise occupied with Scientology, she took out her frustrations in the gym. What began initially as a modest exercise regime soon escalated into a full fledged obsession with all forms of physical activities which soon proved to be too much for the other Pink Ladies.  Sandy was soon banned from all further pajama parties with the Ladies who could no longer accept Sandy's constant desire to get "physical" with them.  Like Zuko, her career soon descended into making low budget movies and exercise videos.  Sandy and Zuko were last seen together in 1995 at the opening night of the critically and commercially disastrous remake of Grease III.

And such would have been the fate of Sandy and Zuko had it not been for their extraterrestrial admirers.  For though Sandy and Zuko were all but forgotten in Hollywood, the Grease franchise was the longest running theatrical production in the entire Orion Nebula.  Sandy and Zuko merch was priceless, and promoters, learning of their hard times on the planet Earth soon teleported Sandy and Zuko to the Orion homeplanet of Rigas VI.  The Rigan's were extra-dimensional beings who had little use for all the baggage that Zuko and Sandy acquired after that fateful summer depicted in the first Grease movie.  Consequently, everything else was edited from Sandy and Zuko's life and they became 17 again, locked in long passionate kisses and walks on the beach for eternity.  They became the living embodiment of the dream of Grease, and each time they sang the songtrack, it was filled with new meaning:

I saw my problems and I'll see the light
We got a lovin' thing, we gotta feed it right
There ain't no danger we can go too far
We start believin' now that we can be who we are - grease is the word

They think our love is just a growin' pain
Why don't they understand? it's just a cryin' shame
Their lips are lyin', only real is real
We stop the fight right now, we got to be what we feel - grease is the word

Plaza de crown, with endless delights.  

Touching the Triceratops Grazing in my Backyard

We created the concept of space to put distance between ourselves and everything around us.  If there is no space, there is no separation.  There is only one giant universe.  A gigantic all encompassing wholeness.

We created the concept of time to prevent everything from happening at once.  If there is no time, there is no separation between moments. There is only the eternal now.

We created the concept of causation because of fear.  There is nothing more terrifying than an arbitrary universe.   But all we really have is data and information.  We have the data that when the bat strikes the ball, the ball will change directions.  But only data.  We don't actually know that the billionth time the event occurs what is going to happen.  So we invent causality which is an inference created from the data.  Scientific induction.  In this way, we cannot describe with science what actually is.  That lies in the domain of aesthetics.   All we can see is patterns supplied by data.  What "is" is fundamentally unknowable.

We created the concept of the self because we don't really pay attention.  Did you ever notice that there is so much more information coming from your thoughts that what is actually happening in the world that is not your thoughts?  If we look, what we think of as the self is in an unending process of condensation and evaporation of thoughts, images and sounds. In this way, the self, like causation, is nothing more that ephemeral patterns of data.   

When the concepts of space, time, causation, and self start to bleed over, interesting things happen. I just saw a herd of triceratops in my backyard.  They were grazing on trees and I felt  both the nourishment going in and the loss of me being consumed by me.  Anything is possible in a world without space, time, causation, and self.   Indeed, what is possible is only an inquiry into causation and data.   You are already there--go ahead and touch them--they don't bite.   

The French didn't want me around; They didn't like my groove; So I packed up my bass guitar-- I moved to Hollywood

Locked inside his cage, the Sleeping Cat sleeps with one eye open, waiting for redemption.

He may not actually be sleeping.   He has jet lag, it seems.  He knows somewhere on this globe, many people are sleeping.  He would like to join them.  But he is not tired.  So he follows his breath in and out.  Not awake, not asleep.  His concentration focuses first on the sensation of his breath, then the sound of his breathing, and finally the kaleidoscope of colors through his closed eyes.  Its almost like he is once again in a sensory deprivation tank.  His thoughts resting on one point.  Concentrating. Stopping.

In this way, he goes on for hours.  In his moments of lucidity, he wonders if this what death is like? If so, he thinks he could accept it.  Then he goes back to his breath.  Death is just another breath out.  So many thoughts, so many breaths.  Just like life:

"If you think, "I breathe," the "I" is extra.  There is no you to say "I."  What we call "I" is just a swinging door which moves when we inhale or when we exhale."----Shun Ryu Suzuki

Indeed, the trope of the "Sleeping Cat" is not without historical antecedent.  The "Sleeping Cat" is also a famous wood carving by Hidari Jingoro located inthe East corridor at Tosho-gu Shrine in Nikko, Japan.  It something like this:

Here is a closer look:

It is written that the "Sleeping Cat" symbolizes Nikko or the Spirit of Ieyasu, who is the manifestation of the Buddha of Healing, giving nourishment to the mind, body, and spirit.  And in his own way,  the Sleeping Cat in the cage feels nourished by his slow breathing.  By his concentration.  And by the end of thought and sleep.

I encourage you to visit the Sleeping Cat in Nikko.  Especially if you are visiting nearby Ashikaga and are wined and dined like the dignitary that you are not.  And the Coco Farm and Winery where autism is rewarded by the fastidious separation of grapes into piles.   And goats scare away the crows from the vineyard.  If you look hard, you may even encounter one of the heirs of Confucius along the way--turn left at the Fukai factory if you want to find her.

Hide in Your Shell, Ch. 3

The dinner was opulent as you might expect from a castle underneath the sea.  Ivan appeared to have invited everyone in the city and they were all drunk by the time Susie arrived.  When Susie walked in the dining room a hush spread over the audience and she was uncomfortable as everyone was staring at here.

"Ladies and Gentleman, Fish and Reptiles," said Ivan from his throne above the diners, "Please welcome back my voluptuous bride Svetlana who has returned from an unexpected and unwelcomed sojourn in the land of the air breathers."

The crowd erupted in applause.  Susie did a quick courtsey and her maids escorted her to a seat next to Ivan. 

"I trust our staff has been taking care of your needs?", asked Ivan.

"Yes, quite.  But they wouldn't let me keep my animal."

"Don't worry about the Cat, my dear, I think you are going to enjoy this."

With that Ivan clapped and the lights dimmed.  A huge view screen appeared behind the throne.  Ivan continued, 

"My lovely bride seems to have a case of amnesia brought about by my wicked sister.  I put together a presentation to jog her memory.   Please share this special moment with us as I present to you:  Svetlana--a retrospective.

What followed was a video that struck Susie as something akin to a home movie.  There were various scenes with her and Ivan swimming under the water, frolicking with dolphins, and vacationing in exotic underwater locations.  There were also wedding photos.   None of the photos were even vaguely familiar.  Indeed, Susie had the impression the videos may have been Photoshopped  with her face inserted.   Moreover, as the video began to drag on, she sensed that the previously racious crowd was growing board. She turned to Ivan:

"Dear, it's a very thoughtful video, but I believe the guests may be getting bored. Perhaps we should change the station."

"Don't worry about the guests my dear, they will like anything that is put in front of them. But if you want to change the channel, maybe we could put on something different."

Ivan clapped his hands again and the video channel changed to what looked like a commercial for a Ramen noodle Company in which two Elderly Japanese man were conversing at a counter of a noodle bar in Tokyo:

"Aren't the noodles here heavenly?  I know the chef must be divinely inspired."

You are shitting me my friend--the cook looks like an ordinary bloke to me.

"Amigo, you should not judge a book by its cover--would you like to hear the chef's story my friend?"

Do I have a choice?

"Our cook, Norio, has had a pretty amazing life. He was born to homeless parents.  His mother was something of a sex symbol among the homeless. She hooked up with many homeless men. Of course, back then, most homeless men were former CEOs of Japanese start up companies experiencing hard times.  After their companies tanked, these former CEOs did the honorable thing and disappeared to a life on the streets.   Norio's mother died early and Norio was raised by 10 homeless men, all of them extremely intelligent, any of which whom could have been his father.

Norio's early years were marked by much happiness. His playground became the vast fish market in Tokyo.  One of his fathers found a used soccer ball and gave it to him as a birthday present.  Day in and day out, Norio could be seen dribbling the soccer ball in and out of every alley and road in the market. 

Norio became quite proficient at soccer. He was discovered by a soccer coach and recruited to play for a team with the children of rich merchants.  Soon, his star begin to rise and he became a nationally famous soccer star.  However, his fame was short lived after the Japanese paparazzi disclosed his homeless background which had previously been concealed.  A huge scandal ensued and Norio was kicked off the team.     

Norio was heartbroken that his soccer dreams had been taken away from him.  To relieve his frustrations, he took up boxing and quickly became proficient. He progressed rapidly in competition. However, on the evening before his championship fight, he was confronted by a paparazzi about his past and lost his temper.   Norio punched the photographer and knocked him out.  The photographer pressed charges for battery and Norio spent the next two years in prison.   

While in prison, Norio met Kanjita, a social worker.  The two fell madly in love and were soon married.  Kanjita's ambition was to become an actress. Norio encouraged Kanjita's acting ambitions and after he was released from prison he became her business agent.   

Kanjita's acting career took off and she and Norio were soon seen on red carpets   everywhere from Cannes to Hollywood.  During the Cannes film festival one year, the couple chartered a Mediterranean yacht to Gibraltar.  On the cruise, the yacht stuck what was believed to be a massive turtle and capsized.  Kanjita drowned.  Heartbroken, Norio returned to Japan and opened this noodle business. 

I may never eat American food again. I miss being wined and dined as a dignitary.  I'm learning to sleep with one eye open.  My middle eye.  I may read everything that Gene Wolff has ever written. I could do worse.   There is a secret code there.  I'm going to experience it. 

Hide in Your Shell, Ch. 2

Susie Vector had been scuba diving before. But never like this. As she clutched the back of the old man's fin, she zoomed across the sea floor at a dizzying speed.   Moreover, even though the sun had set long ago, the underwater terrain was illuminated for her for miles in all directions.  It was almost as if a protective shell surrounded her and endowed her with incredible underwater vision.  As she reached the deepest part of the Mediterranean, she saw in the distance a giant bubble enclosing a vast golden city.  She wondered if it was the lost city of Atlantis.   She supposed she would find out soon enough because the old man was clearly taking her there.   

As they approached the gate to the underwater city, the old man performed an elaborate hand gesture and a portal to the bubble opened up.  Susie stepped inside .   The city was immaculate and dominated by a structure at the top of a rise that looked something like a medieval castle.

"Come Ms. Vector," said the old man.  We will go directly to the castle throne room.  My master awaits your arrival.

She was hurried up to the castle and through the corridors into a giant room where a handsome man wearing a crown was seated on a green throne shaped like the protective shell of a turtle.

 "I'm so glad that you have returned to me," said the man on throne.  "But as you may not remember me because of the curse, I am Ivan.   And you are my long lost queen, Svetlana."

"I'm sorry Sir,"  said Susie, "but I don't believe I've ever met you before."

"We'll that's of no consequence," cried the man, "what's important is that you have returned to me.   Isn't that so, royal jester?"

Susie's growing sense of unease at this encounter lessened slightly when she saw a familiar figure, namely the Talking Cat bound into view.   The Cat wore a red jester's hat with a bell at the end.  The cat wasted no time in running down the carpet and leaping into Susie's arms.  As she looked at the Cat's face, she could see that he was quickly shaking his head back and forth as if pleading with her against something.  However, for some strange reason, it appeared that the Cat was unable to talk.

"Yea, don't worry about him," said King Ivan, "he's not very funny for a jester.  You heard of the phrase "cat got your tongue"?  We'll lets just say that I got the Cat's tongue.   And I think I need a new royal jester.   Guards?"

Two henchman ripped the Cat from her arms and put him inside a cage.   "I don't know why my aunt gave me the Cat in the first place.   But she say the Cat was connected to you somehow and that the Cat would lead me back to you.  So I guess its got that going for it.  But that's about all.   Its beginning to tire me.  Now Svetlana, back to important matters, I will have my servants show you to your room so that you can slip into something more comfortable and prepare for the royal buffet tonight.   Today is a happy day for me and all the Kingdom now that you have returned."

And with that Ivan clapped twice and a group of young women scurried into view and escorted Susie down a side hall and into a room that looked like something like a 17th Century French boudoir.  Susie's long body was bathed in a strong smelling water that left her slightly intoxicated and smelling like lavender and hyacinth.  She started getting groggy, but she shook her head and told the maids over and over to bring the Cat to her.   Eventually the maids brought in the cage with the Talking Cat.

"What the fuck is going on here?  What did you get me into now!," said Susie, shaking the bars on the cage door.   The Cat gestured to her that he still could not talk--motioning her with his paws to get something to write with.  One good thing about the maids, Susie discovered was that they brought you stuff you asked for.   It was kinda cool.

In no time the Talking Cat was furiously scribbling on a note card.  Susie picked it up and read it:

Susie, you are in my nightmare.  This King Ivan is crazy. He thinks you are his wife.

"Yea, no shit Sherlock," said Susie,   "But he is kinda cute.  And why do you always insist that this is your dream?  This is my life.  I'm not in your dream!"

"Whatever, but you need to get me out of this cage first.   Ivan's Aunt put a spell on me so that I can't speak and I can't get out of this nightmare."

"Yea, I was wondering about that.  What were you doing with the Aunt?"

"Like I said, this is nightmare."

"Yea, I bet it was.  What did you do to piss her off?"

"Its not what I did to piss her off.  From what I can tell its what Ivan did.   The Aunt put a spell on him that every time it rains in the holy land he turns into a turtle and it forced remain on dry land until he is rescued by a woman with a pure heart or something like that."

"So what about his belief that I am his wife?  

"I don't know anything about that," wrote the Cat.

"Well my feline friend.  Look at the portrait over there on the wall, doesn't that kind of look like me?  Maybe the King is right.  Maybe I am the queen and the Aunt or something put a curse on me so I don't remember it."

"Good luck with that.  You really want to stay here?"

"Well I don't know.  I could get used to staying here with all the maids and all.  But you are probably right.  The King is a tad bit creepy."

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud gong which the servants told Susie was the dinner bell. Susie was quickly dressed and escorted out of the room.

"See you later Cat, don't wait up for me."

The Cat replied by extending the middle finger of his paw to Susie.

"Keep up that attitude and you may stay in that cage a long time my friend," said Susie.  "But don't worry, I'll think of something to get you out of this 

mess." 

Hide in Your Shell, Ch. 1

Susie Vector was having a glorious time on the sparkling beach outside Tel Aviv.  During the day, she sold raw cacaofolic-X,--for her employer had exclusive distribution rights to the naturally derived psycheuphora in Israel.  Her hut, where the line of beachcombers waited patiently for the drug, was shaded by a giant palm tree within a stone's throw from the beach.  Business was excellent.

At night she didn't have to walk far to watch the locals, high on cac-X,  play volleyball late into the night on the beach.  Night after night, she would sit on the sand, favorite Cabernet in hand, and watch the games.   And so it went for her first two weeks in Israel.  It had been perfect weather--indeed, she was glad she had taken this posting from her employer.  She imagined vacationing here when she was finished with her assignment.

She had just finished her Cabernet when she noticed that it started to rain.  Not a heavy rain, but just enough to spoil her mood.  The rain didn't stop the volleyball game though.  However, rather than a volleyball it appeared that the players were tossing a dark object back and forth over the net.  When Susie got up to look at the object it became apparent that it was not a ball at all, but a round turtle who frantically wiggled his legs in pain and fear.

"They always come out in the rain, isn't it hilarious?  We wedge their heads with a block so they can't go back into their shell---wanna play?,"asked one of the men throwing the turtle across the net.

Susie felt sorry for the reptile.  And enraged.   In a voice she didn't know she had, she chastised the players for injuring the poor animal.  Then, further surprising herself, as if on autopilot, she picked with the animal and carried it to the beach.  She watched the evening tide carry the frightened animal away.

Still shaking with excitement for what she did, when she got back to her hotel room, it dawned on her that she had been crazy to pick up the turtle. What if it had bitten her?  Reptiles had always scared her.  Why did she pick it up?   Why did she put it in the surf?  Did she drown it?  Then again, with further reflection, a voice inside her whispered that she had done the right thing.  

The weeks went by.  She no longer watched the volleyball games.  Susie became more introspective and spent more time in her room.   One cloudless night, however, when the stars were bright in the sky she walked out again on the beach--pointedly ignoring the volleyball players.  

Susie walked down to a remote area of the beach where she saw an old man fishing with a bamboo pole. Maintaining a respectful distance, she watched the old man cast an empty hook him into the night surf over and over without effect. After she watched quietly for a number of minutes, she moved in closer to speak.
  

"Pardon me sir," she said quietly, "what do you hope to catch with an empty hook?"

"I have already caught when I sought to catch," grinned the toothless old man, smiling in her direction.

Susie's initial feeling of fear quickly vanished as the old man's eyes glittered like sapphires in the evening sky.

"Come," he said,  "I am but a servant. And my master would like to speak with you."

And with that, the old man unclasped his robe and ran briskly into the surf, motioning for Susie to follow.  As his body submerged in the water, she noticed that his hands and feet metamorphosed into fins and gills.  Quickly, and strangely unafraid,  she caught up with the man, grabbed on to his back fin, and they both disappeared under the water.

END CHAPTER ONE

Fibonacci was Lithuanian; this Blog is a Fibonacci spiral, ergo....

Life is kinda like a Fibonacci spiral.  You start off slow, and then spiral into ever widening arcs.  Life speeds up, years fly by.  

By definition, the first two numbers in the Fibonacci sequence are either 1 and 1, or 0 and 1, and each subsequent number is the sum of the previous two.  To wit:



Life is nothing but circular.  Not only in the sense that what goes around comes around.  But more like, I remember this feeling, many years ago or I have been in this state before, many years ago.   When I was just small.  I feel so much more expansive now.

Applying the Fibonacci sequence to a circular spiral becomes a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor is  φ,  the golden spiral.   The golden spiral gets wider by a factor of φ for every quarter turn it makes.   It looks something like this:

The spirals widen ever outward.  One county, Lithuania, even made the Fibonacci spiral into a national coin.   How cool is that?  How cool is a country that can honor a mathematician?

I want to go there and live out my retirement doing something useful.  Good luck on that flyboy!

This country, by contrast, honors those in the media spotlight.   The Donald Trumps and the Kardashian people.  Now how fucked up is that? But I digress.

What your probably didn't know is that this entire blog is one big Fibonacci spiral.  Seriously.   You can trust me.  After all, Sri Pseudopumkin is rumored to be an attorney.   Would he lie to you?   This blog actually starts off from zero or one and then spirals out of control. Where does it start?  Hmmm.   Actually there is sort of a funky algorithm involved.     Its so funky that I'm not sure what its properties are.  Its certainly much more sophisticated than the algorithm at facebook or google--because this one can actually read my mind.   Those algorithms can only tell me what I want.

Where this blog starts off is at a zero.  What is a zero if not the absence of life?  What is the absence of life but missing the boat?  How do you miss the boat?  You start off at zero.  Right here.  Seriously, clicking there may lead you to further proof of Fibonacci's nationality and conclusive proof that you are on the spiral.

Next you take baby steps.  Move a little out on the spiral will you?  Take two and then three steps out.   When you are ready to take three steps out, click here.

Now you're getting going.  Starting to hit your stride. Let go a little.  Go with the flow.  Start to drift along the ever widening arcs of the spiral.   Let go and click here.

Soon, you find yourself in space.   Aboard a spaceship.  When you find the spaceship, click here.

After that, more adventures ensue.  Many drugs are taken.  And the aliens come.   And then, ineluctably, we have to click here.

And then it all ends and we find that the spiral was just all an illusion.  And all we are left with is a pocketful of golden Lithuanian coins.   And things could be much much worse.  But of course, they are not.

Employee Dilligent a is Rick Ranger

Why did you start at the end?  Most people tend to start at the beginning and proceed linearly to the end.

This is the last line of the story

And that's why Ranger Rick is a diligent employee.

Ranger Rick brought a smile to many a camper's face.  Many attended the park just to be around him.   Some, however, came to the park to buy drugs from the other employees.   These were called "bad" campers.   The people that came to the park to see Ranger Rick, were the "good" campers.   If you go to the park, you too should be a "good" camper.

Ranger Rick always told the campers his philosophy on life.   He would say things like:   "You life is a gift and is precious--appreciate every moment."  Ranger Rick would also construct shrines around the campground to honor nature and help the campers appreciate the sacredness of life.

While other employees failed to collect the campsite fees from campers, Ranger Rick always collected all fees to support his organization.

While the other park employees took drugs on their lunch break, Ranger Rick ate his organic tomato, sprouts and cheese sandwich in silence.  He wanted to always be alert, in the event that any natural resource came under attack from an external source.

Ranger Rick's passion was his job.  He was a park ranger with the Department of Resources of Natural Things.

I am now going to start the end part of the story.  Its about Ranger Rick.  By the way, the title to this blog is actually reversed.   It helps to read it backwards, just like this story.

You are now at the middle of the story.   In the end of the middle part of the story, I must tell you that I am not sure what the band name Passion Pit means.  Although, as you can tell, I like to think about it.  

Of course, if you are into punk rock, there is always the mosh pit where all the slam dancers bounce and contact each other with great fervor and enthusiasm.  The pit could be the location where all the passion from all entities commingles into a giant orgiastic frenzy.

Then again, a pit could be the end of passion.  The chasm where all passion falls off the ledge and disappears forever into the bottomless abyss.   I don't like this interpretation.

Can a pit have passion?  I thought passion, like an emotion, is fluid and not solid.

One thought I had was that the name Passion Pit implies that the music represents the essence of passion.  Its very pit.  An apricot has a pit.   It's at the center.  Its the seed that causes it to grow.   In this idea, Passion Pit implies the pit, center, or essence of passion.

Passion Pit is the juxtaposition of two seemingly the dissimilar words: passion and pit.

I've been intrigued by the name Passion Pit.  What does it signify?

Passion Pit is the name of a band. 

If all goes well, I may see Passion Pit in a couple of weeks.

This is the first line of the story.

The Pope should visit Iran

 I don't have a problem with the Pope visiting America. However, its like fishing in a barrel. If the pope wanted to do something truly earth shattering--or rather Earth conjoining, he would visit Iran.  Why not attempt to heal the thousand year gaping wounds that exist between Christianity and Islam? And why stop there?  The Pope could visit Tel Aviv and Jerusalem on the way back from Tehran.   I know the Catholic church has enough difficulties ministering to its own flock, but reach out a little bit will ya?

Pope Francis is getting to be something of a rock star.  When he dies, there will undoubtedly be calls for him to be canonized.   All you have to do is tour America a couple of times and set a vaguely moderate and modern tone like John Paul II and you are in.   Talk to some of the ancestors of indigenous American's about the Pope's choice of Junipero Serra to see how easy it is to join the club.

Not that my vote counts, but if the Pope goes to Iran, I think he should be canonized.   While he is still alive. no less.  With his current burgeoning popularity, a trip to Tehran would be such a dramatic gesture that it would inspire countless citizens of this planet, not just Catholics, for years to come.  It could change the entire psychic ecosystem of the planet.

Reality runs like water, the mind is like stone and steel in its path.   Unlock your mind Mr. Pope! Take a chance on brand new things.  Twist away the gates of steel.   Harmonize the new psychic ecosystem with the rushing flow of reality.   Go to Tehran.   Anything is possible.   There are no limits in this new psychic ecosystem.

I just have to keep saying  psychic ecosystem psychic ecosystem  psychic ecosystem  psychic ecosystem

And in my new psychic ecosystem, David Foster Wallace replaces William Shatner on Star Trek. He never dies. The five year voyage continues indefinitely, even to this day.   And the world would be a much better place.

When you are on a jailbreak in Cincinnati because you don't speak Russian, and that is your only saving grace because if you did understand it, you would probably go crazy, and you go to a bar called the Cock and Bull, and the bartender tells you that they have no Imperial Stout, but he knows a great brewery that has some, and you go there and they don't have any, moreover the beer they do have sucks, but you are on the phone narrating your adventure so its not all that bad from that perspective just keep in mind that it is important to always nourish your psychic ecosystem.

Danger Pay=More Wine

Step 1:  Define Parameters

Q=Questioner, a machine based artificial intelligence. 

A=Respondent, female human reconstructed from a machine based artificial intelligence.

A2=Respondent, feline male during lucid dreams, reconstructed from a machine based artificial intelligence. 

Step 2:  Question and Response Period

Q:  So if you totally dropped out of society and did what you wanted to do, what would you do? What's on your bucket list?

A: I'm not sure, but I'd sure like to put together my bucket list while on a nude beach.    According to the Travel Channel, here are the best nude beaches:

1.  Little Beach, Maui
2.  Haulover Beach, Miami
3.  Red Beach, Crete
4.  Praia do Pinho, Brazil
5.  Hedonism II, Jamaica
6.  Samurai Beach, Australia
7.  Wreck Beach, Canada
8.  Ocho Rios, Jamaica
9.  Montalivet Beach, France
10.  Cap s'Agde, France
11.  Plakias Beach, Crete.
12.  Club Orient, St. Martin

Well, Cat, which nude beach should be go to?

A2:  This is your bucket, dear, but I'm thinking if all else fails, we should go to where the Germans go to get wild.   After all, they have already done all the statistical evaluations on the place, they've saved up diligently for the venture, and they probably will look the most silly nude out of all the other nationalities given their propensity to dig the carbs.

A:  Ok, it looks like we are going to Crete!

Q:  What about you Mr. Cat?  What's on your bucket list?

A2:  I'll just be her cabana boy on the beach.   Funny, wasn't there a movie called "On the Beach? 

About about the aftermath of a nuclear war?  Kind of ironic wasn't it, considering how all the breathies did themselves in at the end?

A:  If you want to work for me kitty-cat, you better learn how to make the perfect mojito.

Q:  Come on Mr. Cat, I'm sure you must have some other agenda than being a cabana boy for the rest of eternity.

A2:  Ok, if we went to a beach on Mexico, I'd go to one of those Mexican clinics that allow their patrons to experiment with Psilocybin  or Ayahuasca under the protective auspices of a medical clinic in case things go funky.  That or I'd try some cognitive behavior therapy so I can understand and control the machine like thought processes of my mind.

A:  That's ridiculous.   You're already a machine based consciousness.  Just program yourself not to engage in self destructive behavior.  There is an easy upgrade for that.

A2:  Its not more ridiculous than wanting to go nude on a beach.  We haven't had bodies in millennia.

A:   There is nothing wrong with a bit of nostalgia.

Q:  Come now children.   Stop you quarreling.  Whose up for a game of rock, paper, scissors?

Step 3:  Endless Reams of Chatter

[–]Susie 265 points 2333.789 years ago 

I insulted you the last time, which may happen again

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[–]Talking Cat 72 points 100087 years ago 

I need to use this in a conversation. It's hilarious to hear an AI come up with a sentence like this:  Whose up for Rock, paper, scissors?

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[–] Susie 33 points 7896 years ago 

Well actually the AI uses past conversations as a reference for present conversations but may not be able to differentiate between users, so it probably assumes it is the same user

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[–]Talking Cat 60 points 987 years ago 

It has no concept of state, context, or memory. It is literally a glorified parrot.

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[–]Susie 15 points 610 years ago 

Yeah, this is why it's so easy to spot an AI in a test. Ask them a question, let them answer it, then ask them "what question did I just ask you?"

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[–]AI:  JUST_LOGGED_IN 13 points 18 years ago 

Literally search: glorified parrot

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[–]AI 18 points 1 year ago 

hahaha, I need blood

What question did I just ask you?

bio:  no longer sick, which helps.  time to question everything.  Ed gives Rotary talk.  I never knew my office at work had no many secret rooms of pleasure.  In the past, they all have been torture.  My bucket list is accurate.