Civilization, you gotta love it. Some say it’s been here for some time. I’m with the group that’s waiting for it to arrive. The other day someone bit off a man’s finger at MoveOn health rally. Half a day later the missing digit was at a Tel Aviv hospital awaiting transplant to a settler who had spent so much time giving the finger to Palestinians trying to cross a checkpoint that it had frozen in place. Doctor’s at the hospital said that the frozen finger was the result of anti-Semitism.
In more MSM news (or would that be S&MM news?), the guy who invented deep fried Coke and deep fried cookie dough has now invented deep fried butter. The Tin Woodsman’s daughter, Laura T. Coffey wrote this sterling piece of puff journalism in praise of the dish which tastes not unlike an MSM article if you roll it in shit and deep fry it. This makes it sort of like a double chocolate cake due to the redundancy of the ingredients. I can’t link to the story because I don’t link to the S&MM anymore but you’ll probably come across it in your travels.
Gates says, “It’s not the time to leave Afghanistan” and that the conflict is, “only now beginning”. Cue the Chicago song for accompanying soundtrack. There’s a heart rending photo of a young marine kneeling by some objects in the sand. The dead soldier (not present in the photo) was killed in a Taliban ambush. You remember the Taliban? They’re the ones that the U.S. is funding now. They’re the people who stopped the opium trade which got them invaded in the first place so that the opium trade could be restored and man, has it been restored. There’s now so much opium that there’s too much opium for people to buy. It’s only a matter of time before we begin to hear about deep fried opium.
The Zionist controlled western powers are rattling their sabers, because the bankers are bayoneting them in the ass from behind, and demanding that Iran come to terms with addressing what it is that they haven’t been doing. So Iran agreed to talk about it and openly discuss the west’s concerns. The west responded by saying that there was nothing to talk about. What’s implicit here is that it is impossible to stop doing what you’re not doing and that attempts to muddy the water by the people not doing these things is bad form. It didn’t work with Iraq and it isn’t going to work with Iran.
I guess I should mention, on the other hand, that certain things didn’t work for Rome or The British Empire but that was then and this is later. It’s never right now unless you are attending a seminar where they never talk about actual conditions but only about inner convictions. It seems that these two things can exist in separate envelopes and not affect or be affected by each other.
It’s always at the funerals of the famous that you notice everyone who also wants you to know that they are famous. This is the moment for them to give those great speeches that are most noteworthy for containing very little in terms of what actually happened. I’ve often maintained that the bigger the limousine, the bigger the funeral, the bigger the asshole. I’ll suspend that when it comes to entertainers because that’s usually the result of a certain mass hysteria that I call Orpheus Flu but when it comes to politicians the rule applies across the board.
Generally when I look at the legacy of public figures I do not look at what they are purported to have accomplished because that is usually, without fail, business as usual. It goes without saying that all of them accomplish business as usual so it’s not even worth mentioning. When I look at the legacy of public figures, I look at what they didn’t do but could have done. I look at what they could have said but didn’t say. I look for where they stood apart from their fellows and said what needed to be said amidst the clamor of outrage by those who consistently maintain that, “You can’t say that”. I look to see whether they were able to make a fashion statement on The Emperor’s new outfit. If they are not able; were not able, could not find the opportunity to be able, to speak the truth in the face of the frozen finger of tradition then they are empty suits and cowards all.
I didn’t buy into the Kennedy fantasy for one minute. My biggest Kennedy memory was Robert Kennedy assisting Roy Cohn and company. Roy Cohn used to like to go out on Cardinal Spellman’s boat and frolic with naked altar boys in the service of his country. I will allow that ‘maybe’ John F. Kennedy did try to do the right thing now and again because, after all, they shot him didn’t they? So I might give JFK a certain special pass but that’s not my province. There’s a higher court for that sort of thing.
I’m not the Lone Ranger but the prairie is wide and so one can go for long periods without seeing the other rangers. My heroes are not the usual heroes, with a few exceptions because… there have been some real heroes. I have had to walk in this world but that hasn’t inclined me to believe in it because it all turns out to be deep fried butter or deep fried opium but mostly deep fried shit that has been flavor enhanced. Ah the bouquet.
People view dogs with distaste for sniffing at asses and showing an inordinate amount of curiosity in curbside and walkway droppings and never seem to realize how they do exactly the same things themselves. We are conveniently blinded to this reality by the camouflage of collective behaviors given meanings other than the ground zero meaning they actually have. You strip away the cultural colorations and the costumes. You strip away the various veneers and the social games and you’ve got dogs doing what dogs do but everything means something else because we hoodoo the doodoo. We voodoo the obvious and it becomes another thing and by collective repetition, over time, of agreed upon beliefs about what something means… it all means something else.
This is why patriotism gets wrapped up in the creation and performances of war. What actually happens is that a group of bankers has determined that they can make money six different ways by initiating a conflict between two or more nations. They create the lies and tensions that lead to whipping up the publics anger at a manufactured boogeyman then they lend counterfeit money at interest to all parties; they sell them the weapons and supplies needed, they run the black market operations, they steal the resources and they provide the financing and companies that carry out the rebuilding of what they destroyed but there’s a lot more than that. You would be surprised.
Meanwhile, the public view is all about these brave young men who have gone to defend their country and their way of life against flesh eating barbarians from across the water or over the hills. These young men with their shiny eyes and hopes of heroic engagement, destined to rot on some field in Flanders, which is routinely recreated under a different name and then immortalized in song by whatever Toby Keith kind of whore is responsible for the awful lyrics.
A walk in the park that we know as Life is a beautiful image but you’re going to step in a lot more shit than you ever will in the wild. The status of the world can be seen in the life that inhabits the park at night.
The enduring lies of patriotism are just a few of the lies that we encounter in every area of life from the battlefield to the bedroom. These lies become crystallized into established truth and become the traditions written into the stone over the public buildings and it is no different in the religions and educational systems than it is wherever you go. If you want the truth you’d better look inside yourself because it might still be there. You can see it in Nature, where the rape artists have not yet been at it and in those special moments of twilight and dawn when she pulls away the curtains for those brief moments in the hope that someone might be watching.
All that heartbreaking beauty is on display but off to the side on seldom traveled roads. One might find a direct parallel to the hidden beauty within ourselves and come to the same conclusions about what we have spent our time on and what we have ignored. Quo Vadis, humanity? Quo Vadis…
Original source: http://smokingmirrors.blogspot.com/2009/09/walk-in-park-means-watch-your-step.html