Rehab is practically a rite of passage in Hollywood...
each piece she's torn from the whole she gathers up to organize in a way that makes sense... A discussion point where ideas, articles, and stories that contain much of what you want and need to become aware of the existing corrupt reality we are experiencing and of ways to solve them...
Friday, December 31, 2010
Tensions, Hopes Run High in Residential Drug Rehab - ABC News
Tensions, Hopes Run High in Residential Drug Rehab - ABC News
The Power List: 20 people who rocked science fiction and fantasy in 2010
The Power List: 20 people who rocked science fiction and fantasy in 2010
Things you may already know and maybe should...
Android bug that sends SMS messages to random recipients is being ignored by Google | BGR | Boy Genius Report
Android bug that sends SMS messages to random recipients is being ignored by Google | BGR | Boy Genius Report
Really? How is it a company gets to be so large and forgets the basics about what they offer their customers to the point of dismissing their basic needs...
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Nickelodeon’s Illuminati-Themed Show “House of Anubis” Hits America - BlackListed News
Nickelodeon’s Illuminati-Themed Show “House of Anubis” Hits America - BlackListed News
House of Anubis seems to be yet another show bathing today’s youth in a precise set of symbols – that are also found in their favorite music videos and movies. Guess we’ll need to keep and “eye” on this show.
How Allstate Used Sampling To Confirm BofA/Countrywide Lied About Virtually Everything When Selling Mortgages - BlackListed News
How Allstate Used Sampling To Confirm BofA/Countrywide Lied About Virtually Everything When Selling Mortgages - BlackListed News
Allstate has determined that Bank of America misrepresented virtually everything in its prospectuses: from the percentage of owner-occupied properties reped in prospectuses (about a 10% differential), to the LTV thresholds on represented loans (both at the 90% and 100% threshold), while inbetween finding willful and malicious intent to defraud and deceive. We are confident that none of this, however, will result in a prison sentence for Mozillo, as laws in America are meant to be broken by anyone who can demonstrate an LTV more than 100,000% or have more than $100MM in annual income (including that derived from golden parachutes).
DUDE, WHERE’S MY JOB?
DUDE, WHERE’S MY JOB? (Featured Article) « The Burning Platform
The economy is growing due to unprecedented deficit spending by the government, fraudulent accounting by the Wall Street banks, the Federal Reserve buying $1.5 trillion of toxic mortgage “assets” from their Wall Street owners, various home buyer and auto tax credits and gimmick programs, and Fannie, Freddie, and the FHA accumulating taxpayer loses so morons can continue to purchase houses. Jobs are being created. According to the BLS, we’ve added 951,000 jobs since December 2009, an average of 79,000 per month. Of course, the population of the US is growing at 175,000 per month. It seems that there are millions of jobs being created, just not here as shown on these graphs from the NYT.
(click on the title to read more)
The economy is growing due to unprecedented deficit spending by the government, fraudulent accounting by the Wall Street banks, the Federal Reserve buying $1.5 trillion of toxic mortgage “assets” from their Wall Street owners, various home buyer and auto tax credits and gimmick programs, and Fannie, Freddie, and the FHA accumulating taxpayer loses so morons can continue to purchase houses. Jobs are being created. According to the BLS, we’ve added 951,000 jobs since December 2009, an average of 79,000 per month. Of course, the population of the US is growing at 175,000 per month. It seems that there are millions of jobs being created, just not here as shown on these graphs from the NYT.
(click on the title to read more)
Friday, December 24, 2010
Rainbow Moon
There's a rainbow around the moon.
A rainbow around the moon?
Yes...
Oh yes, I love that... I love you
I love you...
Sometimes I close my eyes and try and take myself out of my body so I feel nothing around me, no phone against my ear and I slowly make you appear beside me so that I feel your warm body, your warm breath when you turn to kiss my skin... I just can't seem to keep my eyes closed long enough and then you're gone... Can you tell me what colors you see around the moon?
Yes, blue, lots of blue and red...
Do you see my favorite color?
Yellow?
Yes.
I do. Just a little.
Theres never enough yellow.
No there isn't... never enough yellow.
Well theres lots of your favorite color I'm sure
Black?
Yes.
It's everywhere...
Just not here.
A rainbow around the moon?
Yes...
Oh yes, I love that... I love you
I love you...
Sometimes I close my eyes and try and take myself out of my body so I feel nothing around me, no phone against my ear and I slowly make you appear beside me so that I feel your warm body, your warm breath when you turn to kiss my skin... I just can't seem to keep my eyes closed long enough and then you're gone... Can you tell me what colors you see around the moon?
Yes, blue, lots of blue and red...
Do you see my favorite color?
Yellow?
Yes.
I do. Just a little.
Theres never enough yellow.
No there isn't... never enough yellow.
Well theres lots of your favorite color I'm sure
Black?
Yes.
It's everywhere...
Just not here.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
God Draws Straight Lines Crooked
We are lines drawn on the white we are blind to
A coalescent chaos of scribble without direction or purpose
Intersecting for moments here and there, others merging into a singularity,
Disappearing to become one and then none
Faith eliminates their paths drawing them with ease into the truth
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Gauntlet
Early morning a man pauses at a city corner, panting he pauses, then bolts across barren streets of tall buildings that echo voices crying out, "you can't hide, you can't run forever, make this easy please for all our sake, come to us, maybe we can end this."
The man pauses again at another corner, looking round charges across the street and into a building.
A pedestrian looks back just as he disappears.
The pedestrian smells the air, inhaling deeply. Pedestrian: he’s here!! I can smell him!
Interior: apartment stairwell.
The bloodied beaten man struggles up the stairs to the top floor of a run down tenement apartment building. There he comes upon a young woman standing at an open apartment door. They stare at each other a long while. He looks at her, then the door, then stands, leaning against the wall & stumbles into her apartment.
Interior: Sparsely furnished apartment. Dark. Dirty
The apartment is sparsely furnished: a couch backed to a large window looking out onto the street, a tall lamp & an end table. The beaten man stumbles across the room & into the corner beside the large window. He listens. She listens.
Woman: You can't stay for long. You have to go before my husband comes home. If he sees you he'll beat you like the others.
Beaten Man: I understand, I just need a minute.
Woman: Would you like some water.
Beaten Man: Yes.
She leaves the room. The man closes his eyes, listening to the calls for him, from outside. The woman returns with a glass of water that he takes & drinks.
Woman: why do they beat you?
Beaten Man: Why don't you?
Woman: I don't know.
Beaten Man: Neither do I. Why would your husband want to beat me?
Woman: I don't know. But he will, I know that.
She steps up to him and kicks him in the side.
Woman: There. I've done my part. How did it feel?
Beaten Man: Like a love tap.
Woman: I'm sorry.
Beaten Man: I’ve made my way through so many cities, beaten by strangers, hiding in condemned buildings, finding benevolent people to hide me, but who still hate me for what I’ve done. Why is this? I don't know. This has gone on for so long I can't remember why I’m tortured so. I imagine that I once knew why, but now most of my memories are gone. I’m not even sure that the memories I do have are mine and not just fabrications to placate my burden.
She walks to the window & looks out.
Woman: Where do you go from here?
Beaten Man: Nowhere in particular, just moving on, running, hiding, I never know where. It all depends on who's doing the beating and then I run from there in whatever direction will take me away from it.
Woman: How is it that you go on like this? Did you kill someone? Is that why they beat you? Because you've done something so wrong?
Beaten Man: I don't know for sure but I seem to remember having killed once a long time ago. I don't remember who or when or why. I remember losing all my strength, realizing the magnitude of what I'd done. But now, I just can't imagine killing anyone.
A sound at the door.
She turns & there stands a man at the door. Without saying a word, the man, wearing a worn pair of jeans, a dyed wife-beater shirt & a pair black work boots, struts over to the beaten man, stands over him for a moment, looking him over & then begins to kick him. The beaten man drops the glass of water on its side, recoils into the corner and cowers while trying to absorb the pain. The man continues to pound away at the Beaten Man.
The Woman turns away, holding back tears, a scream. The Beater tires quickly, each kick needing further exertion. The Beaten Man moves quickly between tired kicks, sliding over & away. The Beater turns to give chase & kick the Beaten Man but steps on the glass of water, rolls on it & falls hard on his back. The Beaten Man runs for the door & out of the apartment. The Beater stands, grimacing from the pain, turns to The Woman with a look of anger then runs out of the apartment screaming about the man. He chases The Beaten Man all the way down to the first floor & out of the building all the while screaming.
As The Beaten Man charges into the streets, pedestrians suddenly turn, pursue & capture the beaten man in a consuming swarm.
The Woman watches from the apartment window.
The Man returns to the apartment. The Woman stands at the window, not looking out, not turning to see The Man.
The Man walks off screen, then returns with a handful of paper towel, drops to his knees, takes the glass and begins to wipe the floor.
The Woman: what’s going to happen to him?
The Man: nothing’s going to change. He runs on, beaten wherever he goes. It’s the first time I’ve met him. I hope I don’t ever meet him again. I hope I don’t ever become him.
The Beaten Man is being pummeled in the street by a crowd, each person; man, woman and child, taking their turn. Until one man grabs and holds Benito and berates him.
"You are the sorrow in our world. The agony. The pain and suffering you bring with your existence. Why? Why do we beat and pummel you like some soccer ball, and you don't go away? Why can’t you just die?"
"I don't know. I wish I did. I wish I could. But everywhere I go; everywhere I've gone, there has been someone there to beat me. There have been moments where I have found that place, where I am alone, but someone always comes along, as if summoned to beat me."
"Then kill yourself."
"I can't. I don't have the strength of body or spirit to beat another person, kill another, let alone kill myself."
"Then I will do it for you!"
The man pulls a gun out from his shirt and shoots Benito point blank in the heart.
The crowd is aghast.
"What have you done? He's going to die!"
He looks at them all, unaware of what he has done.
"What? I've done what we all wanted. To be rid - of him."
Benito laughs, a menacing snicker at first that develops into an all out choking guffaw. Blood dribbles and spits from his mouth, the redness coloring his laugh. He motions for the man to bow down close to him.
"What?"
"What is your name?"
"Orlando."
"Orlando?"
"Yes."
"I am Benito."
"Benito."
"Where are you from, Orlando?"
"Far away from here. The country. Why?"
"I remember where I am from now. For so long I could not remember where I was from, except to remember that I could not. But I remember now. I am from the city, from Brooklyn, NY. I lived in a small studio apartment near the bridge, with a beautiful view. I remember that now. I remember it all now. Orlando? Do you remember where exactly it is in the country you come from?"
"That's none of your business."
"You don't remember, do you?"
Orlando just stares.
"I understand. I understand it all now."
Benito laughs, tears flow from his eyes. But it subsides as he dies.
A man slips in through the crowd, reaches down to grab Benito under his arms, and drags him away, out of the crowd.
Orlando is alone, surrounded by the crowd.
They look at him.
Someone grabs him from behind, clamping his arms; someone else takes the gun from him.
They all converge and begin to pummel him as they used to do to Benito.
He gets away and begins to run, and run.
And the crowd chase.
The man pauses again at another corner, looking round charges across the street and into a building.
A pedestrian looks back just as he disappears.
The pedestrian smells the air, inhaling deeply. Pedestrian: he’s here!! I can smell him!
Interior: apartment stairwell.
The bloodied beaten man struggles up the stairs to the top floor of a run down tenement apartment building. There he comes upon a young woman standing at an open apartment door. They stare at each other a long while. He looks at her, then the door, then stands, leaning against the wall & stumbles into her apartment.
Interior: Sparsely furnished apartment. Dark. Dirty
The apartment is sparsely furnished: a couch backed to a large window looking out onto the street, a tall lamp & an end table. The beaten man stumbles across the room & into the corner beside the large window. He listens. She listens.
Woman: You can't stay for long. You have to go before my husband comes home. If he sees you he'll beat you like the others.
Beaten Man: I understand, I just need a minute.
Woman: Would you like some water.
Beaten Man: Yes.
She leaves the room. The man closes his eyes, listening to the calls for him, from outside. The woman returns with a glass of water that he takes & drinks.
Woman: why do they beat you?
Beaten Man: Why don't you?
Woman: I don't know.
Beaten Man: Neither do I. Why would your husband want to beat me?
Woman: I don't know. But he will, I know that.
She steps up to him and kicks him in the side.
Woman: There. I've done my part. How did it feel?
Beaten Man: Like a love tap.
Woman: I'm sorry.
Beaten Man: I’ve made my way through so many cities, beaten by strangers, hiding in condemned buildings, finding benevolent people to hide me, but who still hate me for what I’ve done. Why is this? I don't know. This has gone on for so long I can't remember why I’m tortured so. I imagine that I once knew why, but now most of my memories are gone. I’m not even sure that the memories I do have are mine and not just fabrications to placate my burden.
She walks to the window & looks out.
Woman: Where do you go from here?
Beaten Man: Nowhere in particular, just moving on, running, hiding, I never know where. It all depends on who's doing the beating and then I run from there in whatever direction will take me away from it.
Woman: How is it that you go on like this? Did you kill someone? Is that why they beat you? Because you've done something so wrong?
Beaten Man: I don't know for sure but I seem to remember having killed once a long time ago. I don't remember who or when or why. I remember losing all my strength, realizing the magnitude of what I'd done. But now, I just can't imagine killing anyone.
A sound at the door.
She turns & there stands a man at the door. Without saying a word, the man, wearing a worn pair of jeans, a dyed wife-beater shirt & a pair black work boots, struts over to the beaten man, stands over him for a moment, looking him over & then begins to kick him. The beaten man drops the glass of water on its side, recoils into the corner and cowers while trying to absorb the pain. The man continues to pound away at the Beaten Man.
The Woman turns away, holding back tears, a scream. The Beater tires quickly, each kick needing further exertion. The Beaten Man moves quickly between tired kicks, sliding over & away. The Beater turns to give chase & kick the Beaten Man but steps on the glass of water, rolls on it & falls hard on his back. The Beaten Man runs for the door & out of the apartment. The Beater stands, grimacing from the pain, turns to The Woman with a look of anger then runs out of the apartment screaming about the man. He chases The Beaten Man all the way down to the first floor & out of the building all the while screaming.
As The Beaten Man charges into the streets, pedestrians suddenly turn, pursue & capture the beaten man in a consuming swarm.
The Woman watches from the apartment window.
The Man returns to the apartment. The Woman stands at the window, not looking out, not turning to see The Man.
The Man walks off screen, then returns with a handful of paper towel, drops to his knees, takes the glass and begins to wipe the floor.
The Woman: what’s going to happen to him?
The Man: nothing’s going to change. He runs on, beaten wherever he goes. It’s the first time I’ve met him. I hope I don’t ever meet him again. I hope I don’t ever become him.
The Beaten Man is being pummeled in the street by a crowd, each person; man, woman and child, taking their turn. Until one man grabs and holds Benito and berates him.
"You are the sorrow in our world. The agony. The pain and suffering you bring with your existence. Why? Why do we beat and pummel you like some soccer ball, and you don't go away? Why can’t you just die?"
"I don't know. I wish I did. I wish I could. But everywhere I go; everywhere I've gone, there has been someone there to beat me. There have been moments where I have found that place, where I am alone, but someone always comes along, as if summoned to beat me."
"Then kill yourself."
"I can't. I don't have the strength of body or spirit to beat another person, kill another, let alone kill myself."
"Then I will do it for you!"
The man pulls a gun out from his shirt and shoots Benito point blank in the heart.
The crowd is aghast.
"What have you done? He's going to die!"
He looks at them all, unaware of what he has done.
"What? I've done what we all wanted. To be rid - of him."
Benito laughs, a menacing snicker at first that develops into an all out choking guffaw. Blood dribbles and spits from his mouth, the redness coloring his laugh. He motions for the man to bow down close to him.
"What?"
"What is your name?"
"Orlando."
"Orlando?"
"Yes."
"I am Benito."
"Benito."
"Where are you from, Orlando?"
"Far away from here. The country. Why?"
"I remember where I am from now. For so long I could not remember where I was from, except to remember that I could not. But I remember now. I am from the city, from Brooklyn, NY. I lived in a small studio apartment near the bridge, with a beautiful view. I remember that now. I remember it all now. Orlando? Do you remember where exactly it is in the country you come from?"
"That's none of your business."
"You don't remember, do you?"
Orlando just stares.
"I understand. I understand it all now."
Benito laughs, tears flow from his eyes. But it subsides as he dies.
A man slips in through the crowd, reaches down to grab Benito under his arms, and drags him away, out of the crowd.
Orlando is alone, surrounded by the crowd.
They look at him.
Someone grabs him from behind, clamping his arms; someone else takes the gun from him.
They all converge and begin to pummel him as they used to do to Benito.
He gets away and begins to run, and run.
And the crowd chase.
Waves
Waves, we are...
Crashed against rocks
Rising high above the surface
Racing furiously to shore
Ripples of relative calm
Still water breathes tsunami
Darkest fathoms deep
Hidden in relative calm breathes the beast
Crashed against rocks
Rising high above the surface
Racing furiously to shore
Ripples of relative calm
Still water breathes tsunami
Darkest fathoms deep
Hidden in relative calm breathes the beast
My Heroes
they are tortured souls,
my heros
loners all, brooding, analytical and difficult,
who see the world with eyes of cynicism
different from others
they see no hope yet carry it with them
and give it to those in need
Focus
a dream... a lens blurred from complacency
wiped clean and sharpened with ambition to become reality
all that we love and hate distract from the chase
blurring the lens of ambition
one with the end and once again whole
until then our lives are ours to lay waste and forever dream
or push forward to leave behind the dream
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Dinner Is Late
Dinner is late
everyone argues as the meal sits cold and uneaten
someone left the window open rain, snow and the cold air come through but no one notices as the kids sitting at their table grow hungry, tired and cold
makes one wonder where... who are the adults
those who argue over nothing now cause no one seems to remember what it was about or for that matter how it started, the kids are hungry, cold and tired
and dinner is late
everyone argues as the meal sits cold and uneaten
someone left the window open rain, snow and the cold air come through but no one notices as the kids sitting at their table grow hungry, tired and cold
makes one wonder where... who are the adults
those who argue over nothing now cause no one seems to remember what it was about or for that matter how it started, the kids are hungry, cold and tired
and dinner is late
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.4
Sunday, October 10, 2010
How We Could Have Both Inflation and Deflation -- Seeking Alpha
How We Could Have Both Inflation and Deflation -- Seeking Alpha
In a nutshell, financial asset prices and high end products could continue to rise moderately, while the prices of other consumer and durable goods could fall in a depressionary spiral.
Spirituality & Practice: Film Review: Being There, directed by Hal Ashby
Spirituality & Practice: Film Review: Being There, directed by Hal Ashby
Film Review
By Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat
Being There
Directed by Hal Ashby
Warner Bros. 12/79 DVD/VHS Feature Film
PG
Directed by Hal Ashby
Warner Bros. 12/79 DVD/VHS Feature Film
PG
"The emergence of celebrity in America is not based on depth," writes Jerzy Kosinski. "It is based on visibility and accessibility, a smile, a figure. It is based on appearing as a person of importance. The question asked is not 'Is he a good man?' It's 'what circles does he move in?' " Being There is a very funny and thought-provoking movie that can be seen as a fairy tale, a political story, and a religious parable on the nature of identity in a media age. Director Hal Ashby's adaptation of Kosinski's 1971 novel is a tour de force of sensitivity and well-realized pacing.
Chance (Peter Sellers), an individual of mysterious origins, is the gardener in the Washington house of a wealthy and eccentric old man. His only pastime is watching television. When the owner dies, the lawyers for the estate force Chance to leave. He finds himself out on the street with no birth certificate, driver's license, checkbook, or medical records. And Chance can't read or write.
Dressed in one of his employer's custom-tailored suits, he looks like a successful businessman. At least that's what Eve (Shirley MacLaine), the wife of a rich and powerful industrialist, thinks when her limousine bruises his leg. She offers to have a doctor check him at her home. When he says, "I am Chance, the gardener," she hears, "I am Chauncey Gardiner." Her husband Benjamin Rand (Melvyn Douglas), an old and ailing patriarch, takes an immediate liking to the soft-spoken and self-confident visitor. Chance is asked to stay with them during his recuperation.
While the President (Jack Warden) is in a meeting with Rand, he asks Chauncey's opinion of the economy. "In a garden, growth has its season . . . as long as the roots are not severed, all will be well." The Chief Executive uses the line in a speech and the press is soon clamoring to know more about this new economic advisor. Invited to appear on TV, Chauncey is an instant success. Although Rand's doctor (Richard Dysart) has his doubts about the man, both the CIA and the FBI fail to come up with any information on him. Chauncey wows a Russian diplomat at a reception on Capitol Hill and is eventually seduced by Eve. In the end, Rand dies and passes on both his estate and his wife to Chauncey. There is even talk among influential businessmen that Mr. Gardiner is presidential material.
One of the hallmarks of a parable of this type is that it can serve as host to a treasure trove of interpretations. Here are a few to try on: play with the idea of Chance as the Jesus of the electronic age, living by the TV Bible, speaking in botanical parables, and hailed as a savior by the media-dominated society. Or how about seeing the old man as God, Chance as Adam, and TV as his mythology. The lawyers are the angels who send him out of the garden. Eve takes Chance home to tempt him with the fruits of popularity and power. Or see Chance as yourself experiencing all the ways in which others try to force you to play a part in their movies. Others have hailed the political prophecy of Being There— individuals have been elevated to high political office for simply coming across well on television. Or here's a final one to process: the film is simply a very savvy meditation on being present — being at the right place at the right time.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The crash
In a way similar to how the world bank, its governing countries and corporate clients operate, Americans were convinced by the american dream, that owning a home was a sure equity cushion, a guaranteed source of ever increasing income and growth for the common man. Well maybe if we had treated our homes like corporate property and protected ourselves from any fault, but we didn't. The equity was never real but we believed enough to borrow against it and live well, much as so many third world countries believed when offered the same projections by like minded bankers.
This is nothing more than loan sharking. Knowing and petitioning a potential customer to borrow money while the provider is aware the loan can never be repaid.
This is nothing more than loan sharking. Knowing and petitioning a potential customer to borrow money while the provider is aware the loan can never be repaid.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.2
Liberal? Really?
Most tend to put others on a pedestal when they should just mount a mirror upon it and see who really deserves to be on that pedestal. This need to revere others is so prevalent it disgusts me. So much potential is wasted on outward praise of others. Obama who? What we need is not a leader but one who sets an example, who shows a way not the way, who can express true liberalism through individuality. A president who does his job as administrator and not as King.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.2
Economics
Both Friedman and Keynes are wrong. They are both opposite extreme economic concepts that clashes not just because of their basic tenets but because they both seek consensus. Consensus comes through compromise and both ideas have become religion and don't work on compromise. Ideas on both sides are good. Its obviously difficult to satisfy large global and national groups by force. Use what works, keep it simple. Eliminate the greed. Current economics is no different than a game that involves betting. The old idea of barter could never work. Currency is need to drive an economy. Any game has rules and most are simple. The most important being cheating. The game must be played above board. All transactions must be transparent. No reason to hide anything unless you are cheating.
Likewise its bad business ethics and logic to extend credit to those who show they can't pay it back.
Likewise its bad business ethics and logic to extend credit to those who show they can't pay it back.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.2
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Who Is To Blame?
Who Really Is To blame?
The Fed did a lot to create this financial crisis by pushing for a deregulated market during the Clinton admin, happily celebrated and promoted by Clinton, as he cheered Wall Street on... happily pushed even further by Bush then even further by Obama.
The Fed did, during Bush and Obama, push for Fed assistance to so called "banks too big to fail".
Loans to unqualified recipients were pushed by Fannie & Freddie, pushed on by every admin no matter their Party. Without fail, those unqualified accepted those loans; the claim by too many of not knowing anybody is a claim to not knowing simple arithmetic.
Bailouts began with Bush and continued under Obama despite public outcry to stop and the appearance of promise by Obama, to stop it, though he was surrounded by former employees of said banks.
At this moment the unemployment rate is climbing, acknowledged by Obama. Stimulus did help for awhile but also increased debt and in the end will do nothing because the response from those receiving stimulus wasn't what was expected. Public and private recipients of federal funds are doing what you should expect from those in a panic; hoarding. They're all hoarding the cash sprung from our taxes.
The claim by Republicans and Conservative Dems is that Government can't and shouldn't create jobs though left wing Dems believe otherwise. Gov't can do a lot to create jobs that can't be construed as welfare, but so far haven't done anything of substance that will last. First thing and every American I know who discusses it with me states it simply; this country's infrastructure needs a lot of work and so far, as previous admins have responded, nothing has been done. The most obvious way to get people working is to repair infrastructure. To all the rest of us Americans that seems obvious. Put the money and work and the solution in the hands of those who will benefit most from it. Instead of trusting bankers to take our tax dollars and churn them through the economy the smartest way would be to create jobs for those who need it, pay those who most need and do most to contribute, to do what is most needed, repair the American infrastructure, increasing confidence in American people for they, with their own hands, will make things right. Americans will save more of it than they used to considering the fact that most Americans in the last 30yrs have not, but many will just as quickly spend that money, doing what the banks aren't doing, putting it through the system, through the engines of economy. Instead of creating money from thin air, create money from the real value of employment. Both sides argue about value or lack thereof in the economy, that money is worth nothing without something of value, likewise that only gold is of any value, but to whom? Not everybody has gold or access to it. But everybody has access to one thing, the ability to work. Thinkers spend more time debating than they spend acting. This county needs to get making things again, and one of the most important things is making our country again. Democrats, Republicans and members of parties of all sorts have one thing in common; the inability to think for themselves, the inability to think out of the box you put yourselves in. By its very nature, accepting the cause of any party causes divisiveness where only arguments are voiced without answers.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
From my droid
What can I say from my droid while sitting on the bowl.
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Saturday, March 20, 2010
Equations
The reality we perceive is virtual, a metaphor for a structure of reality still unknown.
Too simple we are to perceive what is real. What keeps us from realizing is fear of this unknown.
We are equations built from equations embedded with variables solved through interaction with other variables.
We are, we see the result of variables in formulas. We, our reality is but equations within equations whose results figure into yet other equations with further results appearing as we encounter and/or interact with other equations. A single person is an equation. Introduce another person that is another equation and the result is another equation with new results. We exist as individuals, as equations while still integral to other equations, other individuals. While we exist as individual equations we have an effect on integral equations. Numbers dictate all. Our existence can be expressed in numbers whose values, if we knew, could predict the future. We are complex equations interacting with other equations of varying complexities. Perhaps this is why so many metaphors for the structure of reality exists in computers.
Programs are developed not just with code but modules of code, repeated clusters of code that are used instead of writing the same code over again. Imagine that as the nature of reality and u will note the similarities between us all. As if templates are produced and modified by environment and experience from the moment of conception through death. These similarities are those modules of code we share with each other that cause similarities in us all. Much of our natural tendency to group comes from our need to be with our own. What nature has planned is the intelligence that has fruited in us and that has as a consequence given us consciousness. Silly to say plan but a seed was laid and we are the result. We are the result of a single kernel of data reacting to a whole other evironment of data. We are in constant interaction with other data constantly adjusting and changing and producing results. The reality we exist in no matter the number of dimensions we perceive exists is a massive ongoing calculation of various data. The quantum organic computer model we seek we exist in already. We will eventually reach a state of ability and existence within which we will be able to modify every instance of data ourselves.
We will come to know the math.
We are, we see the result of variables in formulas. We, our reality is but equations within equations whose results figure into yet other equations with further results appearing as we encounter and/or interact with other equations. A single person is an equation. Introduce another person that is another equation and the result is another equation with new results. We exist as individuals, as equations while still integral to other equations, other individuals. While we exist as individual equations we have an effect on integral equations. Numbers dictate all. Our existence can be expressed in numbers whose values, if we knew, could predict the future. We are complex equations interacting with other equations of varying complexities. Perhaps this is why so many metaphors for the structure of reality exists in computers.
Programs are developed not just with code but modules of code, repeated clusters of code that are used instead of writing the same code over again. Imagine that as the nature of reality and u will note the similarities between us all. As if templates are produced and modified by environment and experience from the moment of conception through death. These similarities are those modules of code we share with each other that cause similarities in us all. Much of our natural tendency to group comes from our need to be with our own. What nature has planned is the intelligence that has fruited in us and that has as a consequence given us consciousness. Silly to say plan but a seed was laid and we are the result. We are the result of a single kernel of data reacting to a whole other evironment of data. We are in constant interaction with other data constantly adjusting and changing and producing results. The reality we exist in no matter the number of dimensions we perceive exists is a massive ongoing calculation of various data. The quantum organic computer model we seek we exist in already. We will eventually reach a state of ability and existence within which we will be able to modify every instance of data ourselves.
We will come to know the math.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Perception...
Its about perception...
listen... its not that reality doesn't exist... it does, but what we perceive as reality is a reality of our own...
though because we interact we share similarities and a common "reality"
listen, what we don't see, can't perceive is reality...
fear guides us,
fear blinds us
that is reality
its hard not to find guidance and comfort in fear...
because we really don't want to see...
don't want to see whats over the edge
but what if whats over the edge is... the end
the end is relative...
to what...
to your personal reality.
listen... its not that reality doesn't exist... it does, but what we perceive as reality is a reality of our own...
though because we interact we share similarities and a common "reality"
listen, what we don't see, can't perceive is reality...
fear guides us,
fear blinds us
that is reality
its hard not to find guidance and comfort in fear...
because we really don't want to see...
don't want to see whats over the edge
but what if whats over the edge is... the end
the end is relative...
to what...
to your personal reality.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
A Life Well Lived: Remembering Howard Zinn. People's Historian
A Life Well Lived: Remembering Howard Zinn. People's Historian
Howard Zinn—historian, radical activist, and teacher—died at the age of 87 on January 27. He was an important thinker who spoke unsettling truths about America —and who joined ideas to action. He will be sadly missed.
The Battle of the Titans: JP Morgan Versus Goldman Sachs
The Battle of the Titans: JP Morgan Versus Goldman Sachs
We are witnessing an epic battle between two banking giants, JPMorgan Chase (Paul Volcker) and Goldman Sachs (Geithner/Summers/Rubin). Left strewn on the battleground could be your pension fund and 401K.
We are witnessing an epic battle between two banking giants, JPMorgan Chase (Paul Volcker) and Goldman Sachs (Geithner/Summers/Rubin). Left strewn on the battleground could be your pension fund and 401K.
The Fateful Geological Prize Called Haiti
The Fateful Geological Prize Called Haiti
President becomes UN Special Envoy to earthquake-stricken Haiti.
A born-again neo-conservative US business wheeler-dealer preacher claims Haitians are condemned for making a literal ‘pact with the Devil.’
Venezuelan, Nicaraguan, Bolivian, French and Swiss rescue organizations accuse the US military of refusing landing rights to planes bearing necessary medicines and urgently needed potable water to the millions of Haitians stricken, injured and homeless.
Behind the smoke, rubble and unending drama of human tragedy in the hapless Caribbean country, a drama is in full play for control of what geophysicists believe may be one of the world’s richest zones for hydrocarbons-oil and gas outside the Middle East, possibly orders of magnitude greater than that of nearby Venezuela.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Natal...
In an interesting juxtaposition, I visited the link below, a press page about Microsofts newest gadget, an add-on to the X-Box called Natal, translates to"rebirth", Natal a virtual gaming structure, a box that scans and captures player movements allowing the player to participate as if immersed in the gaming environment perhaps only a few years before ...
Xbox.com | Project Natal
...the movie below, "Surrogates", portrays a near future world where we all live virtually through android surrogates...
Surrogates (2009)
Xbox.com | Project Natal
...the movie below, "Surrogates", portrays a near future world where we all live virtually through android surrogates...
Surrogates (2009)
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Thrash The Walls
i am… we are…
not free when we submit to conformity…
freedom is not the ability to buy what you want, to live where you want, to be friends with whom you want, to worship, read, see, hear and speak what you want…
freedom is… simply
to walk your path.
conformity isn’t a bad thing…
it just isn’t freedom.
conformity is…
comforting.
an infant struggles to walk it’s own path, only to be nestled in the bosom of social conformity, barriers built by others that are eventually it’s own, to keep itself…
conformed.
some of us wonder of a latent desire we sometimes can’t define…
it is freedom, to walk our path.
we stray, return bruised, wounded from thrashing the walls we’ve built and carefully placed to block our path…
look back to see they’ve moved, widening your path of conformity, suddenly revealing a hint of what we all seek…
our own path…
should we accept conformity because it is comforting…
or forever thrash the walls.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
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