The Propaganda Machine

Don't patronize me, Dr. Seuss, if that is your real name.

You may be able to enslave the minds of the thoughtless masses with your Whos and Grinches, but not me. I see right through your insidious, twisted veil. I must admit, it is a very clever and nuanced deception, as audaciously effective as nicotine patches in diapers. You've spread a luscious smörgåsbord of evil just low enough for our children's eager hands, and their tiny mouths feed ravenously on the morsels of human defeat.

Their parents trip on mescaline while these innocent ones devour the sickening green eggs and rancid ham, frying their young brains in your crucible of self-diminishing complacency. Your intoxicating sewage asks each of them to suffer the inevitable scourge of injustice for the sake of something as abstract as "humanity." Your apology for human stupidity requires them to tear out their own hearts with a rusty spoon at another's request to accommodate your backwards world view. Humanity does not shrink, but stands tall in an obstinate refusal to accept your ideological terror machine by its mere survival.

I shudder at your talent, Doctor. If Goebbles had such brilliance and courage one could scarcely comprehend the effects. Today I breath a sigh of relief that animation technology did not achieve such great heights in the 1930s, but remain paralyzed with fear over the droves of Seuss soldiers that will inevitably sculpt our golden years in a frenzy of moral abuse and disregard for justice.

Horton

Horton heard a Who tonight, and among the zany animated characters and a theater full of small children, two philosophies clashed head-on. Yes, as the world of Whovill floated toward a horrific scalding death I wondered what obligation Horton or any of the jungle community had toward the Whos'.

Spoiler alert....

I mean, I agree, if I suddenly found myself the sole protector of a small world of invisible English speaking people, I might feel some sense of obligation as well. If I developed a relationship with them, I might put myself in danger too. But, does "a person's a person, no matter how small" suggest we must risk our reputation, health, and life on something merely because we identify with it in some intangible way? Is it proper, or morally correct to do such a thing?

Horton must have lived a simple life. He must never have been scorned by another Whoville colony who, upon risking his life to save, killed his family for amusement afterwards. Will the next Whoville be just as innocuous? Perhaps they are small, and that makes them harmless. The Spanish Flu virus was also small. It killed between 20 and 40 million people. Good thing it wasn't as charming as Steve Carell.

There are many wonderful themes in this story...

• "I meant what I said and I said what I meant, an elephant's faithful, one hundred percent." Horton is a benevolent, honest, courageous and determined nonconformist.
• The town wants to continue the celebration, which illustrates the tyranny of the majority.
• When the burden of proof besets both of them, they each produce hard evidence.
• Even a small voice, left to follow its dreams, can tip the scale.
• Unthinking monkeys travel in mobs and perpetuate violence indiscriminately.
  

I like that they showed the children blindly following Horton, carrying their own clover. It reminds us of the obligation we have to keep our mouths shut when we can't explain ourselves well enough or produce any proof. That sometimes people we care about will follow for no reason at all other than the fact we are older or seem wiser. Seeming is being in some ways I guess.

I think the film is directed to the person who does know something important, whatever that is, and asks that care is taken to ensure it is handled properly. Speaking of handling it properly, perhaps if the mayor had achieved his position on his own merits, his reputation would have allowed him to convince everyone that Whovill was virtually doomed. (A nice little argument for a meritocracy.) If Horton had kept Whoville to himself until he could prove its existence, he wouldn't have saved a lot of trouble and wouldn't have needed the baby kangaroo to snatch it milliseconds from its boiling grave.

What are the two philosophies? Well, the movie seems to suggest an inherent duty toward fellow man, universal human worth, and unconditional forgiveness. I can think of at least one prominent 20th century philosopher who would argue against at least two of those points. A lot of weight for an animated film, but at least it should get kids thinking.

South Park

This week's South Park is a fair assessment of the US drug situation. Hilarity does ensue, I noticed.

You can watch every South Park episode here. For free! Trey and Matt are today's true American heros.

Roger

Welcome to GiantTech. The panel appreciates the time you've taken to visit with us today. We hope you're comfortable and want you to relax and just be yourself because here at GiantTech, people come first. So, let's begin. Why do you want to work for GiantTech.

Because of the voices in my head.

Excuse me?

The voices, in my head, they asked me to apply for this position.

...

Your resume reports 15 years of experience defusing lethal explosives. Did you have these, um, voices then?

Always. And I always trust them.

Your file does not say anything about this.

It shouldn't, I've never told anyone.

Roger, why are you telling us this?

Because it's true.

Yes, but, the board, they won't let us hire someone who depends on voices in his head. Why have you decided to tell us this now?

Because they told me to be honest.

Who did?

The voices.

Let's just pretend they aren't there and begin again. Tell us why you are qualified for the position of CTO at GiantTech?

The voices say I'm qualified.

Roger...

Would you prefer I lie?

No, we just prefer you to leave the voices out of it. Now, why do you believe you are qualified?

I don't.

Then why are you here?

Well, I am usually wrong. Almost all the time actually.

Is it the voices, Roger, do they tell you you're qualified?

No comment.

Do you ascribe all of your success to the voices?

I have always listened to them, so I suppose you might say that.

How have you been able to live like this? Don't people wonder? Do you realize you are describing symptoms of psychosis?

This is the first time the voices have requested I talk about them openly. I am surprised myself.

Roger, let's just forget about them, can you do that for us?

I'm afraid I can't do that. I have before, regrettably. I have discovered it is very unwise to ignore the voices.

So, by hiring you, we are also hiring these voices.

Absolutely. I suppose all the others have as well. They just didn't know about them.

So, by trusting you with all this responsibility, we are actually not trusting you at all, but the voices in your head. Am I right?

Correct.

So, it should be all the same to us, except, we know about these voices, and your former employers didn't.

Correct.

If we hire you, do you expect they will ask you to disclose them openly like this?

I doubt it, they usually prevent me from speaking rather than the other way around. This is very unusual. Most of the time I am only slightly conscious of them, if at all.

So, do you believe we can trust this will not affect your performance?

Yes, I do.

And how can we be sure?

The voices have assured me that it will not be an issue.

Very well then. Why do you want to work for GiantTech?

Well, GiantTech is really an ideal fit for me because of my unique experiences in the explosives management business...

The Trip to Rome

Stop if you've heard this one, but it's one of my favorites, and the closest thing I have to an Easter joke...

A man was getting a haircut prior to a trip to Rome. He mentioned the trip to the barber who responded,

"Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It's crowded & dirty and full of Italians. You're crazy to go to Rome.

So, how are you getting there?"

"We're taking TWA," was the reply. "We got a great rate!"

"TWA?" exclaimed the barber. "That's a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their food is bad, and they're always late.

So, where are you staying in Rome?"

"We'll be at the downtown International Marriott."

"That dump! That's the worst hotel in the city. The rooms are small, the service is surly and they're overpriced. So, whatcha doing when you get there?"

"We're going to go to see the Vatican and we hope to see the Pope."

"That's rich," laughed the barber. "You and a million other people trying to see him. He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You're going to need it."

A month later, the man again came in for his regular haircut. The barber asked him about his trip to Rome.

"It was wonderful," explained the man, "not only were we on time in one of TWA's brand new planes, but it was overbooked and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful.

And the hotel-it was great! They'd just finished a $25 million remodeling job and now it's the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us the presidential suite at no extra charge!"

"Well," muttered the barber, "I know you didn't get to see the pope."

"Actually, we were quite lucky. As we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the pope likes to personally meet some of the visitors, and if I'd be so kind as to step into his private room and wait the pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later the pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down as he spoke a few words to me."

"Really?" asked the Barber. "What'd he say?"

He said, "Where'd you get that lousy haircut?

Ed, You are Soooooo Wrong

First of all, I want to thank you for graciously towing me too and from the bar tonight. It just goes to show even the most misguided and obtuse among us still retains some rudimentary sense of civil responsibility to our fellow man. Even though you were also towed, and it wasn't your car. Actually, Ed, Kathy drove both ways, so never mind that.

On the subject of gratuitous baby killing. I am opposed, as we discussed. I respect your opinions, and see where you think baby torture leading to slaughter and animal feed might be necessary, but I think we will just have to agree to disagree on that one. I think we might be able to find a mid-ground on other subjects.

As far as the other issues, I was pretty drunk and forgot what they were, but, rest assured, you are soooooo wrong. So wrong! And, now that I have made an example of you to the rest of the world, my work is done.

Do they really fear me, or justice itself? I hope they fear me. They should, since I make the justice. Well, since I make justice, I guess they have no choice. But, that doesn't matter. All you need to remember is that, whatever it was, you are very, very wrong and you should have lashings administered immediately, or something.

Leroy

The attic was dusty and Leroy coughed as he reached for the string, cursing. The bulb flashed. Figures, he thought. He turned on his flashlight and ascended into the piles of boxes and antique furniture. Looking through this place always gave him the creeps, as if it were haunted. He just wanted to get this over with. He had to find it.

It was an antebellum home and this room benefited from several generations of storage. He walked slowly through the picture frames, lamp shades, and Chia Pets. He had seen it all before. It was a routine he didn't look forward to. But, these days, he thought, he didn't seem to have much to look forward to anyway. He had looked so many times, he didn't think he'd find it. He figured if past performance is any indication of future results, he was already doomed to failure. Something he thought often. But, he could think of worse things he could be doing.

As Leroy carefully moved the small beam over the rubble he saw a glimmer from behind a pile of ammunition. Funny, he thought, all these years and he had walked right by without having seen it. It was an ornate, wooden chest adorned with what appeared to be gold. If it was gold, he thought, it would be the most valuable thing up here. So, he knelt down to take a closer look. From the side, his flashlight revealed the carving of a woman carrying some type of instrument. He blew to remove any dust and was surprised that there wasn't any. He had lived in the house alone for a decade, he thought, it must have always been here.

A glow creeped through the crack as he started to open it. He held it barely ajar for several moments unable to lift higher, but also unable to close it. Gradually the curse of curiosity overpowered his slight terror and he garnered enough courage to continue. By the time the cover was all the way back his cheeks and forehead were bright with the reflection of its contents.

Leroy never considered himself much of a judge of beauty, but he imagined that if there was such a thing, this was it. Perhaps he had seen such things in his dreams, but he might be giving his dreams too much credit. He didn't like to obsess over stuff. He had always had this feeling that the more you wanted something the less likely you'd find it. But, he knew, somehow, that this particular thing wasn't going away. If you could call it a thing.

He slowly closed the box and the room became dark other than the dim beam of the flashlight. Leroy walked back to the attic's entrance, wondering what he had been looking for. He was amused that moments earlier he figured a box could be the most valuable thing in the room.

Frank

An albino ptarodactyl is not just a rare sight in the Americas or the northern hemisphere, but the entire planet to be sure. Not only because reptiles seldom if ever exhibit the albino genetic mutation, but because Pterosaurs, like dinosaurs, have been extinct for 65 million years.

Frank pondered this, turning his head to examine the one perched next to him. He studied it while munching on his combo meal outside McDonalds. It was a peaceful and stunningly beautiful bird. He held up a fry as an offering, but the animal sat still on the concrete ledge, disinterested, adjusting its wings. It seemed to have a purpose, just resting still for a moment in silent preparation for the continuation of a long, arduous flight. There was a subdued fear...the kind that accompanies the presence of majesty.

As quickly as it had arrived, it shook its head, shuffled its talons, extended its enormous wings and escaped into the evening sky. Its shadow drifted past the full moon in the distance before disappearing altogether.

This was neither the first nor the last time Frank would enjoy the company of his mysterious bleached reptilian companion, and he knew it. Curious, he considered asking if anyone else happened to see a giant albino ptarodactyl drifting among the night sky, but thought better of it. He secretly wondered if everyone else was thinking the same thing.

The plan

If there was a shred of dignity in politics I might not be appalled enough to concern myself. But, I am constantly reminded why I have every reason to despise it.

Attention Republicans: In case you haven't heard yet, if you really want to help the Republican Party, you are instructed to appear at Democratic primaries to vote for Hillary. If you can become a delegate for Hillary, bonus.

Apparently, this has been going on for a while. Republicans have been trying to push for Hillary because they suspect she is unelectable. Now that McCain is the official nominee, they can swing over to the other side to help out the Democrat's weakest opponent.

The Republicans hatched a similar plan around 1913. Confident the states would never go so far as to ratify a bill changing the Constitution to allow for an income tax, they drafted one up.

What happened? It passed. The result? Here is the original income tax table...in 1913 dollars. Wouldn't that be nice.

Republicans, you need a reality check. Just because you think she is genuinely disliked by most of the electorate (as I do), pulling the levers has significant risks. Seriously, be careful what you wish for.

Maybe it's time for Republicans to admit that this presidential race is between Hillary and Obama. By pulling for the weaker Democratic candidate, you may end up getting the weaker next president. And, although that might be a painful thing for the Democrats in 2012, its a dishonorable thing for our country. At least be able to honestly say...

I didn't vote for him [her] but he's [she's] my president, and I hope he [she] does a good job.
-John Wayne

a

Spring is the best time of year to take a casual stroll along the crowded patch surrounding Lake Harriet. I enjoy watching the first sailboats appear in the marina, the activity, the glistening water, the gentle breeze of life restored to the same route frozen in icy desolation only weeks before. And on these walks I am often recognized by so many friendly faces. It seems like whether they are walking their dogs or casting their lines, everyone is anxious to chat. Oh, of course, it's weather, or baseball, or maybe a bit of politics. But, I know what they really want to hear - all roads seem to lead to the same thing. How many times have I heard it: "Mark, so tell me really, how did you get your start in technical writing."

Who am I to deprive them the tale. And, the several hundred who have asked now have the story in written form to relive over and over again.

It started in fourth grade. I had walked into the second day of typing class and sat before an enormous monitor. It sat on top of two floppy 5 1/4" disk drives, each slot guarded with a black lever. The screen was black aside from a curious green bar blinking in the upper left corner. I had plenty of experience with computers already, having mastering such intense programs as Number Munchers and Oregon Trail.

I remember placing my hands on the keyboard, typing slowly...asdf;lkj. asdf ;lkj. Soon, we had crossed into exiting territory. I was learning fast. I had discovered, in a functional way, how to type...fad, lad, ask dad, has sad dad had salad. I could imagine it already. Soon my fingers would fly as I learned the systematic method for transcribing words, sentences, paragraphs. Without even thinking I would soon dictate my thoughts lucidly in pristine, legible courier.

Then, it was time to learn capitals. Our instructor carefully described the method...

"Press the Shift key and then press the letter a."

Alright, easy enough. Now I would learn how I was to begin every sentence in my rich volumes. I did exactly as she said. I moved my pinky to the Shift key, pressed, and then typed a.

a

a

aaa

How could this be. I looked at the monitor next to mine...

A

How did she do that?

I tried it fast, slow, hard, soft, nothing seemed to work. I looked at the monitor to the other side...A. Oh no! Was there something wrong with my keyboard? Then, the teacher said it again...

"Press the Shift key and then press the letter a."

Once I tried it really fast and really hard, and I got it...A. YES! But, I could only get it about half the time. It seemed like the faster and harder I pressed Shift and then the "a" key, the more likely it was to be capital.

The lesson was over for the day and I stepped down off my chair and walked out of class. I had become frustrated and disappointed. How would the world see my genius now? With all lower case? Was I a "lower case" person after all? Something so simple to everyone else was just too embarrassing to mention. It laid heavy on my mind in the subsequent hours and through the weekend.

Half the sentences in my first assignments began in the lower case. My grades were not good.

Soon enough the seeds of a technical writing career were born. The next week a frustrated 10 year old boy pecked at the top of his next assignment...

"To type a letter in upper case, hold down the Shift key. Then, while holding down Shift, type the letter."

I can't be certain, but I like to imagine my unique typing style is a relic.

Peaceful Easy Feeling

Today's purpose from our overlords..."stimulate" the economy.

They way I see it, this is not a tyranny by a dictator or even the majority. This is the tyranny of the irresponsible minority who risked everything on real estate for a quick buck. Now, those of us who work for a living are doing what we always do...paying their bills.

I got the letter a few days ago. I will be reimbursed $600, a small portion of the many thousands I paid last year in taxes.

I'm glad we will get a nugget. I fear it is a small consolation for the impending monetary collapse. (Holy crap Bear Stearns was bankrupt!) Perhaps that $600 should be spent quickly or used to buy gold...before it is worthless. Let's cross our fingers that doesn't happen.

I'm not an economist, but I feel like the dominoes are crashing into one another. This is just another piece falling over...us, the normal folks (the people) being asked to grease the wheels for a few moments while the interested parties tinker with their machine, trying to force consequences on the innocent rather than the irresponsible...trying to slow the domino pyramid cascading before their eyes.

This may turn into one of those moments in history where those of us with the least to lose also have the least to fear. Or, maybe that was always the case, and only now will it become obvious. Funny how everything seems related somehow.
Reminds me of a song...

I like the way your sparkling earrings lay, against your skin, it's so brown
and I wanna sleep with you in the desert tonight with a billion stars all around

'cause I gotta peaceful easy feeling
and I know you won't let me down
'cause I'm already standing on the ground

And I found out a long time ago what a woman can do to your soul
Ah, but she can't take you anyway You don't already know how to go

and I gotta peaceful, easy feeling
and I know you won't let me down
'cause I'm already standing on the ground

I get this feeling I may know you as a lover and a friend
but this voice keeps whispering in my other ear, tells me I may never see you again

'cause I get a peaceful, easy feeling
and I know you won't let me down
'cause I'm already standing ...
I'm already standing...
Yes, I'm already standing...
I'm already standing... - on the ground

Peaceful, Easy Feeling
The Eagles

From the Rubber Chicken Advocacy Department

At least we all can agree that everyone is entitled to rubber chickens, and that they are superior to paper ones...

We know that. It is documented. We all share that belief. Whew, glad that discussion is over...or is it?

Seems to me some folks got their hands on enough paper chickens that they decided they could attempt to convince us otherwise...Maybe even try to substitute the rubber ones for paper ones...

Oh, sure, they may appeal to popular prejudices, emotions, fears and expectations to advocate the paper ones, but people can tell the difference, can't they? Or, are they vulnerable? Are they really capable of forgetting that we all agreed the rubber ones rock, and are not to be confused with the paper ones? Maybe they assume you think:

• That rubber chickens don't matter to you.
  
• That free rubber chickens are cool, but a whole bunch of paper ones is cooler.
  
• That other folks can tell the difference, so you can just listen to the kind of chickens they are voting for.
  
• That since collective knowledge is additive, if everyone prefers paper chickens they must be right.
  
• That you lack the confidence to trust your understanding of the merits of rubber chickens. (Wait...I know the free rubber ones are essential, but I will act like I believe they can be substituted with paper anyway until I'm absolutely sure.)
  
• That if the masses like paper chickens, so will you, even though it's obvious rubber chickens are better.
  

But, there is a more subtle psychological influence at work. It is the residual self image disturbance. Suppose you have found the candidate who understands we all need free rubber chickens before we can have paper chickens (or anything else), but, to your dismay, no one is listening to him. If you throw your support behind the guy supporting free rubber chickens, you might ask yourself...

• Will all my esteemed yet uninformed colleagues understand this guy? Probably not. They all think he's confusing rubber and paper.
  
• If they misunderstand him, will I be perceived as a lunatic if I support him? Everyone thinks I'm smoking crack because I keep saying he's all for free rubber chickens.
  
• If all my esteemed colleagues think I'm smoking crack, will I lose credibility with them? Not to mention power and influence over all the delusional paper chicken supporters - who are actually smoking crack?
  

If you trust yourself and your beliefs over the popular perceptions, yet give in to the above in order to retain relevance, you are probably making the assumption that you must retain credibility with folks who either don't care about rubber chickens, or the ones smoking crack. Perhaps you choose to be relevant in case there is a chance your rubber chickens will be under siege again.

My question...When does relevance trump everything else? How far can what is "relevant" and what is correct diverge before the rubber chickens are reserved for only the folks with the most paper chickens? More importantly, who's promise of rubber chickens is most vulnerable to being sacrificed to fallible public perception?

• Someone who's career depends on public perception?
  
• Someone who's career doesn't depend on public perception?
  

If rubber chickens are the reason we get to vote for rubber or paper in the first place, when we no longer have them, I guess that is when we must be satisfied with paper. And, there is definitely not an unlimited supply of paper...

Are we destined to live in a world where we all believe we must live with only hard-earned paper chickens because the guys hoarding most of the chickens are telling us so? Telling us so scarcely saying the word "chicken?"

But, there is evidence the elite crowd is losing some ground to geeks with mad tech skillz, some free time, and compassion for evenly distributed rubber chickens. These guys understand that even sensible people disinterested in public political perception are vulnerable to cheap visual and psychological tricks if they are aligned with powerful intellectual beliefs.

Although unrelated to the bird discussed in this article, I think this captures many people's impression of their importance, so we'll use that analogy. But, basing your opinion on such eye candy rather than the concepts is where disaster starts. Soon, you start thinking you can buy rubber chickens with the paper type. But, as much as you try, that never works. You can't have paper chickens unless you first have rubber ones.

I am bothered by this somewhat, though. Ron Paul is just a normal guy, and painting him in such a messianic light suggests he is the only individual capable of actively resisting an unfair proportion of chickens, rubber or paper. Are these qualities so rare that the one guy who acts on them is held up like some god? Are we really all virtually blind following the king with one eye? How would we handle the temptation of an unevenly balanced distribution of chickens in our favor?

Given the promise of an unlimited supply of chickens would you choose to stick with your principles instead? Would you continue to believe that all of us are equally entitled to our share of free rubber chickens, after which the paper type can be pursued? With issues so complicated no one would blame you or even understand the contradictions. I don't know if I could resist the extra chickens. Maybe he is the only guy that can. I don't know.

I am relieved to see that the battle to win hearts and minds is not restricted to groups hoarding the chickens. Occasionally it is waged by a grassroots organization of individuals bound by principles and ideas only, with nothing particular to gain but the personal knowledge that they are perpetuating the ideals necessary for such ubiquitous universal goals as peace and individual liberty, chickens that are rubber.

Perhaps their belief in rubber chickens over the paper variety is strong enough to endure persistent public attack on their character, beliefs, intelligence, and ideals. Perhaps it is even strong enough to endure such attacks from friends and family members. These ideas would need to be based on rubber so fantastic that they agree to risk every last ounce of their reputation on their knowledge that the primary chickens must made from it.

This person also recognizes that many an idiot does the same thing to protect their paper chickens. Or, they argue against rubber chickens without even knowing it...or, argue for rubber chickens while advocating policies that actually destroy them, and make more paper chickens. Which, of course, is why all opinions must be expressed openly without the influence of forces advocating their suppression (popular prejudices, emotions, fears and expectations of the public). At least we can all agree on that...I hope. Yes, the proper material for chicken construction must be discussed, even if we all agree that paper is inferior to rubber, or even that paper chickens are actually a figment of our imagination.

We couldn't have all agreed that evenly distributed rubber chickens is proper without thousands of years of philosophical study, civil experiments, reason, and an effective method of vulcanization. No amount of trickery will dismantle these things. The benefits of free rubber chickens was established and made law hundreds of years ago, and reinforced time and again by countries who let too many chickens into the hands of a few, which is why we shouldn't really need fancy visual effects to illustrate their proper usage.

Perhaps we fail to recognize the benefits of free rubber chickens because we live in a world obsessed with paper ones. Or, perhaps we do not see that everything we have depends on free rubber chickens.

Imagine free rubber chickens.

Carol

Carol opened her eyes and remained motionless beneath her heavy blankets as the blaring alarm rover bounced frantically among the walls and dressers. She looked deeply into the ceiling as the racket faded into a distant muffled disturbance. She recaptured her dream for a moment, just long enough to marvel in its spectacular beauty. It faded away. She closed her eyes and tried to reclaim it, but could only detect a dim glow. She wanted it back, and decided she would sleep forever if it returned. It didn't.

The rover had escaped into the hallway terrifying Stuart, her ancient Siberian feline. Carol had learned to wait for the wheels to become moored on some obstacle rather than chase the damn thing around. It buzzed beneath her feet as she stepped through the bathroom door. The electric toothbrush was loud enough to drown out some of the incessant screeching. By now it didn't bother her much as long as she had something to think about. She thought about that as she held the bristles against her molars and and considered purchasing a more obnoxious model.

Diversions had a way of keeping Carol sane, and moments like this forced her to forget her obsession, if only for a few moments. She would be wrapped up in it all day as usual, so, for now, she decided to think about her dream, and concluded that it must not have been that great after all. She knew it was, but there was no point.

On her way out the door she pulled the distressed rover from its predicament, wedged beneath the sofa, turned it off, and set it on her bedside table. She took one more look to be sure the alarm was set properly for the following morning.

mmm

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Darkness

Darkness.
Flint in one hand,
Steel in the other.
Blind and still,
Within the giant powder keg.
A brisk scrape
Reveals the truth.
The door.
The Prize.
The truth is there.
Right there.
It haunts,
Intrigues,
But most of all,
Frightens.
Not the truth.
But the carnage.
We scrape gently.

The Real Green Revolution

It's unfortunate potheads are always stoned.

The ones I know are some of the most intelligent and interesting folks I've ever met. Excuse me for referring to them collectively, but I have noticed a correlation in behavior that I believe warrants discussion given our turbulent political environment.

If there was a viable political candidate who strongly endorsed the legalization of marijuana, would the collective pothead's ass ascend from the bean bag long enough to cast a ballot?

Probably not. Why? I have reason to believe it isn't straight up laziness.

I don't know this guy personally...but if I did...he's one of the most entrepreneurial guys I know. Legend reports a dense jungle of green bud overflowing his humble residence; an indoor rain forest of KB.

This isn't just a few house plants...this is an irrigated hydroponic laboratory with thousands of dollars of lighting equipment, according to the myth. As a homebrewer I have the highest regard for someone so fiercely dedicated to their hobby. He doesn't sell. He uses it in the privacy his own home. No harm done. Right?

Wrong.

Between meticulously sprinkling water on Goliath The Green Giant and puffing on one of his lush appendages, I'm afraid our accomplished horticulturist simply doesn't have time to defend his hobby with his vote, or, even mild concern about the presidential candidate who is thumping for stoner rights. This gentleman is doing everything in his power to end the war on drugs, legalize our hero's prized plumage, and liberate all who choose to partake in their dragon's share.

This candidate won 16% in the Minnesota Republican caucus straw poll.

Where was our hero when we needed him most? Not present. For that matter, where are the parading anti-establishment peaceniks from the 60s when you really need them? I don't see the tie died shirts at the rallies. I didn't detect the slightest floral waft from the packed Northrup auditorium on February 4th.

Has pot transformed from a symbol of liberation and peaceful protest to an opponent of civil dissent? Is pot now acting on behalf of the establishment, giving them free reign to perpetuate any crime against the Constitution among a green public haze of complacency?

I want to see a pot smoker's march on Washington, and although I don't partake myself, I will happily help organize such an event. Rise my half-baked friends and conquer the beast that insists you purchase your dime from Timmy on the high school tennis courts. The future is yours, all you have to do it take it.

May a green cloud descend on our capitol my friends. The revolution is in your hands.

Reign of Terror

Out on the play lot, among the children swinging and climbing, two young gentleman sat across from each other in the sand, and each emptied a bag of marbles into their hands. The silence between them broken only with a menacing glare. The mild summer day would lend well to another death match. There was only one certainty...marbles would crash.

Tim's bag was overflowing with the spoils of war. He handled the glass balls as if they were fragile ornaments, holding them up to admire them before returning them to the safety of his leather pouch. His reign of terror had swept through the class like an invincible marauding hoard engulfing everything in its path. His thirst for victory was unquenchable and grew more merciless with each new asset. His calculating observation of each glass ball was either an evaluation of its utility or drunken admiration of his own power over it, but probably both. He carefully placed the pieces he cared for most back into his pouch.

Ted sat opposite from Tim with relaxed composure, his disastrously small armada of four already assembled in front of him. His meek disinterest was unbecoming to the small group gathered around. He seemed to almost beg for the class' final bastion to be pillaged.

The spectators watched intently as Tim held each specimen, waiting to see if one of the weapons they had once owned and beloved would be placed in limbo. Everyone knew how much Fred loved his shiny blue jewel, and all watched in anticipation as Tim held it high, observing it longer then the others. Fred's head sunk in despair as the magic blue piece was slowly and deliberately placed back it into the sack. Through the robotic presence a crack of a smile could be perceived on one side of Tim's lips as Fred turned to walk away. He would reserve his choice for a psychological adversary of greater consequence.

All in class brooded in secret anger, defending their own former marbles with as much indifference as possible. They knew Tim would choose one special marble, the one he felt was most loved by a particular classmate. He had a way of knowing who was most vulnerable...who needed to see their marble back into the hands of anyone but Tim. Anyone at all. All acted like they were impervious to Tim's little game, but he always knew. As he held each marble up he could feel weakness. Once discovered, he would delight in the opportunity to use this precious marble to occupy another. This vicious cycle had consumed the children and all watched in invisible horror as each of their marbles was placed back into the sack. It would be only slightly less horrific to see it enter the ring, but they hoped nonetheless.

Meanwhile Ted sat casually, flicking tiny sticks in Tim's direction. Finally, the choice was at hand...an opaque red marble was lifted high. The crowd took a collective gasp. This was what many felt was Ted's most prised possession...the great ball of fire. Tim rolled it between his fingers ominously. A tiny stick bounced off the side of Tim's cheek and all watched in amazement as the ball of fire was gently placed among the spherical contestants.

Ted immediately washed the sand flat in front of him with his hand, then, with care, drew the outline of the perimeter. To the surprise of everyone, instead of drawing a circumference, Ted fashioned a rectangle. "Today we play gaipar."

Tim was neither amused nor disturbed. He nodded in acceptance. This was shockingly unexpected. In gaipar, Ted was risking all four marbles simultaneously. If Tim could expel the gai, they would be lost in a single round. But, being the challenger, Ted had the first shot.

Ted carefully placed his boulder behind the perimeter and crouched in his position. He could take all of Tim's warriors in one powerful shot. If he missed, he knew it was over...Tim would methodically pick away each turn until he had occupied every last one with the ball of fire. Ted's strategy gave him the immediate advantage, but required courage, which would quickly convert to stupidity if he missed. Failure would place the last of our planet's known marbles into Tim's hands.

The crowd held their breath as Ted fearlessly aligned his shot. Tim sat motionless in his stoic, statue-like posture. Everyone knew Tim's unbeaten record could be shattered in one roll. History would depend on one brave shot of the boulder, one taken against all odds.

Suddenly, the bell rang. Tim quickly grasped all of his marbles, placed them in his sack, and walked toward the schoolhouse.

Ted, disheveled, gracefully removed his meager assembly and followed Tim with the rest of the crew back to class.

Tim's reign of terror did officially yield weeks later, but posterity does not recollect the official captor of the great ball of fire, only the artist courageous enough to draw the new arena.

Holy Crap John McCain Works for the Dark Side

Of all things unholy the presidential candidate representing small government, low taxes, and individual liberty is a moral nemesis from the homebrewer's perspective. Totally unacceptable from any beer lover's perspective; from any lover of truth itself.

John McCain not only has many ties to Anheuser-Busch. Not only does his wife serve as the chairwoman of the board. Not only is his son the CEO. He once held one of the two earthly positions most loathed by every conscientious proponent of truth in advertising aware of real beer.

CHIEF PUBLICIST!

This man made a living attempting to deceive us in the most sinister way imaginable. He shamelessly perpetuated a lie so vile, so disturbing, so absolutely nefarious, that all who appreciate beer recoil in horror at its mention; that Budweiser is actually beer.

The other position loathed equally as much; the equivalent employee over at Miller (whoever that is).

I need not explain my case for lovers of the art of brewing. But for those who are unaware of the deception...

Bud isn't beer. Much like Valentines Day, it is an invention of a huge corporation. It is a cheap fermented beverage produced in an ethanol plant at almost no cost. It is a discount delivery system for booze with no flavor, no passion, no spirit.

The inspiration for its production is an unquenchable thirst for money using any deceptive tactic imaginable no matter how fallacious or irresponsible.

The proposition that a political campaign requires little more than a billion dollars, talking frogs, and a super bowl commercial is disturbing, but it puts things into perspective. Maybe this is just another reminder that American politics is limited to perception with little regard for intellectual depth, philosophical integrity, flavor.

Mr. McCain has obviously succeeded in his ability to convince the mindless droves that Budweiser is the only beer worthy of consumption despite the thousands of wonderful alternatives.

Perhaps the Republicans know what they are doing after all.

Wake Up!

Well, that mysterious bonus hour from last fall has come back to bite us. The pain of time stings extra hard one day out of the year, and this is that day...an hour shaved from a precious weekend.

In all fairness, couldn't our time bandits have added one hour during a weekend, and then taken one hour off a Monday? For all the trouble it seems like they could have at least given us that.

But, maybe I'm missing the point. I know the original idea was proposed by Benjamin Franklin as a way for the people to save energy in a world powered by expensive lamp oil derived painstakingly from whales. So, if I'm getting this right, was he suggesting time itself conform to our needs rather than the other way around? Sounds like a thoughtful and brave proposition. Are you suggesting we place more light, less need for oil, and therefore, more prosperity and independence in the hands of everyone?

This sounds like a trap. And it's spoken by a diplomat. Aha! I see the problem Mr. Franklin...Are you suggesting we deprive the whalers and oil merchants of their earnings?

How dare you sabotage our bustling economy Mr. Franklin! What about the hard working whalers? What about the shop keeper trying to sell lamp oil. What will happen to them? May the cries of their starving children echo in your skull Mr. Franklin.

Now that we've easily dispatched that fallacy, let's look at a real solution...If you want to do some good, I suggest a simpler change...One that will charge the economy with a flood of wealth and activity. One without the need for any sort of biannual incremental shift. One so elegant in design and application that, after moments of thought, its merits are without question.

Simply switch AM and PM.

In such a world lanterns would burn throughout the night, every night! Thousands more would flock to the lucrative whaling business. Jobs would be plentiful as workers were hired to transport, store, and sell the much needed liquid gold. All who desired would share in the great demand...the overwhelming opportunities of a new renaissance!

As the sun set you would awaken to a bustle of activity with horses and carriages marching down the well-lit street with rows of lanterns ablaze on either side. Ordinances would be passed so all public buildings met the luminosity threshold throughout the dark hours.

An annual "Festival of Light" would be required in every town featuring giant flaming statues. Rivers, topped upstream with surplus fuel, would flow ablaze in the much anticipated conclusion to the ceremonies.

As the first hints of dawn approached on the horizon the curtains would be drawn and all the children would be tucked in for the daily winter's nap.

But, alas, the colonists were deprived of such an opportunity. Such prosperity was forsaken for the small reward of working during the same set of hours instead of the others...for the small advantage of some extra light from this glowing orb. They submitted to the ubiquitous golden monopoly in the sky at everyone's expense.

Shame on them and shame on us for blindly perpetuating these antiquated traditions. Those of us who "see the dark" understand that daylight is our perpetual nemesis. I hold my fist high and shake it at you, the day trader, The Sun magazine, DAY CARE! Yes, they even neglect the children.

Perhaps one day the thoughtless resistance of a simple, trivial change will not get in the way of unprecedented prosperity for every American. Perhaps one day we will hold our torches high and praise the great leader who brought the blessings of night to the doorstep of every man, woman, and child in this great country.

Until then I will awaken at dusk, strike a match, and light my lantern in ceremonial reverence for the opponents of Mr. Franklin and his ilk. I will curse this "Daylight Savings Time" for its short-sightedness and hope that one day we can conquer public perception and become noble creatures of the night.

When you peer out your window in the wee hours to see the rivers ablaze do not be afraid. It simply means the well-meaning people of the world have conquered ignorance and the era of prosperity has begun.

Rushmore

Just saw the Rushmore. Excellent movie. It ends with an appropriate song, Ooh la la.

I wish I knew what I know now, when I was younger. -Ronnie Lane

It gets me thinking...I wish I knew what I'll know when I'm older, right now.

Is it just a fact of life that we are seldom prepared for what life throws at us until it's too late? There are all these subtle unfair situations that just seem to fly by without anyone noticing; things that can't be approached head on.

They probably require maturity, experience, and some other qualities well beyond my capabilities at the moment. One of life's evil tricks that we have the ability to identify things that are sad, unfortunate, and downright incorrect without having any idea what to do about it.

I want to withdraw some wisdom from my 65 year old self just once or twice damn it.

At any rate, what a great premise for a movie.

Beer and Shoes

The question: If you didn't have to pay taxes, would you give the extra to some sort of charity? Maybe just a little?

The answer: No you wouldn't. Hell no.

But, I don't mean a bit of minor tax relief, I mean no taxes; sales tax, income tax, social security, inflation tax, hidden taxes. You would bring home DOUBLE your salary over all. That's a lot. Come on, are you sure you wouldn't give just a little more? Maybe drop an extra penny in the jar.

no, No, NO you wouldn't! And you know it! Nobody would!

It's okay, you are not a cruel monster. On the contrary. You are a liberated citizen now keenly aware of your true worth. Damn, you earn quite a haul, don't you. Naturally, you value that money you have earned and can spend it however you wish. This is your very your standard of living, your children's future, your freedom, a ticket to possible happiness, your 15 gallon stainless steel pressure-sealed conical fermenter.

But, no, you don't get those things. Sorry. You can't keep half the money you earn. Let's take a closer look at what that money really is...

When the shoemaker offers the brewer a pair of shoes in exchange for a pony keg, the keg might be worth more than the shoes. So, to make up for the difference, the shoemaker needs to offer something else - something that is generally accepted, durable, and of stable value. Gold, currency, a foot massage, whatever the brewer accepts. Taxes are basically a redistribution of a portion of the transaction (beer and shoes) in order to protect everyone's right to engage in voluntary exchange of beer and shoes, to resolve disputes if the beer sucks, and to fight the guys trying to steal the beer and shoes. These things now take such a large portion of beer and shoes that everyone is hopping around with one shoe almost sober.

Why? Because we spend our own money more wisely than other people's.

It all comes down to...Who's money is more important? Yours, or someone else's? Many don't think their tax money is important because they already assume it is someone else's before they even see it. People's own worth has been stripped from their fingers without them even knowing. It's enough to make me damn depressed.

So, back to our fantasy...what to do with all that extra coin? Maybe you'll go scarf some sushi, buy better golf clubs, live in a new house, send your kid to private school with smaller class sizes, take the faster toll roads (if you live at the fringes), and maybe get better medical insurance.

You would probably buy some stocks. If you were a small business you would have to hire more people and raise your salaries to keep competitive. Work would be available to anyone who wanted it. Unemployment would be virtually zero.

But wait...what about all the folks on welfare? What would happen to them? Yes, they would suddenly be deprived of all their income. They would need to appeal to charity. Yes, that's right, anyone who couldn't make ends meet would have to take the hit to their pride and find a benevolent individual or organization caring enough to help them.

Oh, you don't believe we could actually care for the needy? Everyone who works would be twice as rich, and some people just get this thrill out of helping others indiscriminately (not really my thing, but they're out there). Most importantly, individuals would have a greater opportunity to succeed without the need for charity. But that's not really the point.

The point is, when government has cornered the market on virtue, we experience a net loss of it.

It's also futile from a practical perspective. People have an easier time stealing from government than they do from individuals (corporations and dead beats), and even the well intentioned politicians aren't capable of dealing properly with the economy (as we see now regarding the catch 22 at the Fed).

Oh man this had gotten boring. Such discussions require good beer and company or they are pretty dead in the water, but kudos if you made it to the bitter end.

Leonard

Leonard the Lion relaxed in the shade of a large tree in the heart of the savanna. There he stayed most of the day in complete complacency, the gentle wind brushing against his enormous mane. The docile creature seemed innocuous with large whiskers, a triangular nose, and the other characteristic feline features.

He was almost cute like a big teddy bear if his formidable yawn didn't reveal the large, sharp canines spaced ideally to penetrate vertebrae of delectable morsels, severing their spinal cord. His fuzzy chin returned to his nose and he licked his chops, squinting slightly. You would hardly guess he was watching a substantial herd of wildebeest drawing near. His mouth was watering already.

Leonard quietly observed the lionesses in the pride deftly surround and attack the prey. He knew they were more than capable, and was spared any responsibility in the matter despite his aggressive inclinations. Perhaps if it were giraffe or buffalo his services would be needed. For now he sat an idle observer, imagining the satisfaction of the hunt.

He watched Leona pounce upon one of the hysterical horned beasts, wrestling it to the ground in a cloud of dust. He casually sat up to get a better view over the flowing grass. He couldn't tell if it was a kill, but he had reason to suspect it was. She came through often, a clever predator. Still, the sight had the effect of sparking the inevitable blood lust that comes along with the rewarding strangulation process. He wanted to feel the life drain from the animal himself.

Suddenly a stampeding warthog emerged from the prairie in front of him. Wound up from the thrill of the events unfolding, Leonard instinctively pounced, restraining the prey in his jaw and then snapped its neck with a single shake. The creature hung lifeless from his bloody grip as he carried the delicacy back to his shaded observatory.

He tore the first warm chunk of meat from the fresh corpse and sat tall to watch the coordinated hunt ensue. For now, bacon would be a delectable appetizer.

Persuasion by Force

Should we allow government to dictate our behavior in matters that apply only to ourselves? Does government have the responsibility to pick up the slack when we are incapable of taking care of ourselves?

No. Not only does it not have the responsibility. It does not have the moral justification for doing so.

Why? Because in matters that pertain only to ourselves we are the only individual capable of defining "happiness." Even if we are unable to properly ascertain that happiness, no other group or individual has the right to interfere in our pursuit of it.

Others may persuade us to stop writing boring blog posts in order to preserve our dignity, but you cannot lawfully stop me (hahaha!). More to the point, you can advise any civilized person to keep off the ice, use a rubber, or clean the needle, and you can do so with whatever persuasive abilities you have at your disposal; anything short of coercion by force...if not for its complete futility, for its effect of tending to encourage the behavior (children and lawless barbarians who are not receptive to reason excluded, and I know that is most of you - go back to your pit and put the lotion on the skin).

I might go out on a limb and say that one also has the obligation to help friends, family, loved ones and even complete strangers to the degree their resources allow and in whatever manner they see justified. Is this going out on a limb?

So the question is...why can't we just commission government to help friends, family, loved ones and strangers on our behalf? After all, isn't that why we pay all these taxes? Unfortunately, your friendly congressman is just as likely to blow your tax dollars huffing gas as he is using it to effectively reward good teachers. Sniff more glue? YES WE CAN! At a national level, that means doing whatever your billionaire corporate campaign contributers demand. Take the hard earned money we could use to help our neighbors and instead build a bridge to nowhere? YES WE CAN! Eliminate individual sovereignty? YES WE CAN. Perpetuate anti-American sentiment globally? YES WE CAN! Bankrupt the country? YES WE CAN!

Because individuals are far greater at identifying legitimate need than government, they are more effective assessors and distributors of charity because they target the most true and desperate demand. The degree to which individuals are capable of keeping the fruits of their labor and distributing it as they see fit is the primary measure of success for a free society, and central to our personal capacity to respect human rights and help the needy. Only a cruel, heartless population would allow the hungry to starve and homeless to freeze, especially with so much personal prosperity available to help.

If you believe we are a society of such heartless individuals, then you might suspect mandatory theft of a portion of prosperity from everyone is necessary to ensure the protection of basic human rights for the destitute. You might assume we must use government to do it.

But, if we are a society built of such trash, are politicians immune from such an affliction? Or, would politicians be the most tenacious examples of shrewed and unsavory cleverness who managed to claw their way to the top?

Assuming the above is even partly the case, the redistribution of wealth through government would not be weighted on the side of the needy. In such a society, only the very minimum amount of wealth is distributed to the desperate. AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE is directed to the privileged few in the elite circle through rampant cronyism. It can be justified because these companies provide jobs, products, and services and it can be argued they are good for the economy. But, government advocacy is NOT the justification for any business - only market demand can validate a company's success. This cooperation between big corporations and government simply deprives small business, the poor, and especially the middle class.

If you believe we are a society of greedy monsters, and want to do something about it, you must starve the beast of government and allow the poor to keep ALL their earnings. You also must allow the middle-class - those who hang out with the poor more than the elite - to keep ALL their earnings so they have the means to help their neighbors and loved ones who run into hard times.

The greedy rich who hoard billions for themselves and their friends must not be allowed to use government to hoard billions more. This is what we allow to happen, and all while we still have enough power to stop them and restore the role of government to its rightful place - to protect OUR life, liberty, and property and not just the privileged few tugging the ropes. Why don't we do it? Oh yeah, because professional politicians spend lifetimes learning how to convince you otherwise for their billionaire friends and are much more convincing than me.

Why listen to the person who has the most to lose? Don't they have the most reason to lie to you? Then, if they are willing to lie, and discover you will let them take your money and liberty, what's stopping them?

To conclude, if the alternative is true, and we are a society of enlightened and charitable individuals, there is no need to take our prosperity in the first place. Personally, I suspect we are willing to accept the responsibilities of freedom already without requiring the outside of force from better men and women than ourselves. Do we need more persuasion to this effect? Absolutely, anything short of force will do.

Democracy

Well, to the dismay and disgust of many long time Republicans, Uptown has chosen...10 out of 15 state delegates are Ron Paul supporters. It's interesting how a few like-minded individuals can organize themselves and basically dominate a whole senate district. Neocons beware. You are becoming extinct.

We all got together Thursday and discussed how we would nominate and vote for each other using a list of supporters. These were not the nutty neoconfederate truthers you may have already associated with Dr. Paul. They were just a bunch of cool people sitting in a malt shop talking about rules of conduct at a convention (it was mostly first timers like us) and basic human rights. They were very well organized. I didn't hear any talk of conspiracies, secession, or alien invasions.

History is made by those who show up.

Speaking of representation, is district 60 really made of 2/3rds Paul supporters? Probably not. But, we were the ones there, so we had the voice. I imagine this was how the neocons hijacked the party in the first place - when no one else was paying attention. That's the price of silence I guess.

In this regard do we need to hold ourselves accountable when a lawless minority takes charge because of our silence? Oh, you didn't know they were slaughtering kittens for fun? Well, being outraged now will not reassemble the piles of tails, legs, and noses. Maybe we should assess how the process of gratuitous kitty carnage began. I have a feeling it began on my couch in front of American Idle.

But we have work to do. We have to pay the mortgage. How can we afford to spend all that time getting involved with the hugely complicated political system? Most can't. Politics of any consequence has become a profession requiring full time employment.

Everyone knows that pushing out the competition is good for business. You beat your competitor with lower prices. Or, alternatively, work with them to set prices high so you both win (and the consumer loses). This principle also works in politics. Once you have a monopoly on government, you can coordinate it to serve you according to your needs. The Republicans have joined forces with the Democrats to widen the gap between the people and their government, a process the Democrats have been up to for a century. So, they are both winning because they have cornered the market on the plunder of taxes for their business friends at our expense. Then, their business friends are our employers.

At the same time they're issuing national ID cards in May while at the same time discussing whether or not torture and preemptive war is OK. Mention our government has suspended Habeas Corpus and violates the Fourth Amendment and you'll look like a raving lunatic.

So, as I mentioned in another post, I'm thinking both parties need some healthy competition. How about one that picks the best aspects of both parties...what does our society have against gun toting lesbian couples anyway?

Sasquatchian Party

Did something new today. Went to the Minneapolis Senate District 60 Republican Convention. I was seated along side about 50 freedom loving Ron Paul supporters and about 70 others (of unknown alignment). It was fun. K and I were delegates and we got to nominate, vote, and discuss. Here's what I discovered...

Anti-war statements greatly outnumbered "support our troops" rhetoric.

Limited government statements greatly outnumbered "no gay marriage/abortion" rhetoric.

There were intelligent comments about the role of government, the mounting debt, the destructive policies of the Federal Reserve, the Constitution, and taxes...

There was even a motion to abolish the Minnesota State Income tax!!! The vote was TIED 38 to 38. You can guess my vote. The nice gentleman and neighbor I was seated next to had stepped out of the room for a moment. Had he been there, the resolution would have passed and raised at the 5th district convention - that's all of Minneapolis!

It's looking like tides are shifting. Not in this election, but in the next few years. Obama's got maybe four years, but If the country can survive that, the rewards will be sweet. A large-scale shift in power from the government to the individual. Imagine such a concept. People are starting to remember that prosperity, peace, and freedom are actually human rights and not gifts from our government.

The Republican Party may fragment entirely, and I think there is a chance it will, but the spirit of libertarian principles, which were once at its core, will remain, and the party that carries that torch will continue to be the stewards of humanism and an example to the world. It may be a new party altogether. If there were a system of beliefs no reasonable terrorist could hate, this would be the one. How 'bout the Sasquatchian Party? I promise an unlimited supply of free beer for everyone.