Alexandra has smacked another homer with her post sewing together the snake-wiggling controversy happening in the blogosphere over Professor Jeffrey Hart's article in the Wall Street Journal which pretty much denigrates conservatives as half-wits.

I know there are a lot of people out there who are quick to paint with broad partisan brush strokes after hearing my individual stances on political and social issues, but I've really tried to step back from that because I've ostracized and lost a few good friends by holding their feet to the wrong fire when it came to a few heated political debates.

Nietzsche once said that no true thinking man could ever belong to a political party for very long because they would eventually think themselves right out of it. I absolutely believe this is the case.

I am a registered Independent voter but I am not a middle of the road walker. I discuss politics based on my core value, which is this: Every human being is inherently free to purse their own vision of happiness provided that this pursuit does not infringe upon the life or property of another citizen. All laws should originate from this and government should derive its power from this philosphical mindset. Any time the law or the government steps out of the business of preventing lives or property from being infringed upon by others, it has become a tyranny.

This is the paradigm from which I operate my life and from which all my actions, attitudes, and teachings that I share with my children and my reading audience come from. I think of this political viewpoint as humane common sense.

The bottom line is that we live in a world of inequality and scarce resources which have to be allocated to their most efficient uses and I believe that this efficient allocation is driven by the pure force of human will and desire. But I also know that there are evil minds and hearts in this world and that is why we need a strong rule book (The Constitution) which we stick to in all matters and a powerful but sensible firearm at arm's reach in case one of these evil minds steps out of line.

And that doesn't mean I always throw in with the administration because whatever you consider conservativism to be, the Bush administration is about the farthest thing from it. I'd say it's more of a Corporatism, double-speaking using conservative key words like tax cuts and small-business owners all the while allowing the biggest spending spree in the nation's history to happen under a supposedly conservative Congress more ineffectual and pointless than testicles on the Pope.

If thinking like this makes me an intellectually inferior idiot to those in the blue states, then they can wipe their asses with their Ivy League diplomas and fake-ass sympathy driven by weakness of heart and misplaced guilt. The heart of the true conservative is made of sterner stuff and doesn't deflate from accusations of being too strong-willed and not open-minded enough. There comes a point where if your mind is too open, it will fall out and the lunatic who holds their folded faces to floor when everyday the paperboy brings more begins to run the asylum.

If you want weakness of character in your country, look anywhere but the United States--here we make mistakes we're only too proud to claim and correct; all the rest is recycled and boring fodder for intellectuals to mull over in their fart-filled leather professor chairs.

So take that to Congress, sign it, seal it, and send it to the President.

Alexandra has thrown down the gauntlet to the blogosphere to produce a top ten list of the Worst Americans. Here is mine in no particular order:

1. Huey Long: This could have been our American Hitler had the man not been assassinated under auspicious circumstances most likely resulting from a contracted hit put out on him by the FDR administration. Long was a social reformer who was even further to the left than FDR and could have easily gained the Presidency with his populist message of anti-rich Robin Hood tactics while he lived like a King in the bayous of that gang-ridden cess pool that Andrew Jackson saved in the War of 1812. It was a good thing for history that this man was cut short by a bullet before he sewed his evil tapestry right through the United States Constitution.



2. Aaron Burr: This traitor not only shot and killed one of the most brilliant of the Founding Fathers, Alexander Hamilton (who arguably had it coming); he tried to incite a rebellion and establish a new country further west that would eventually go to war with the burgeoning United States. Aaron Burr was brilliant in his own right and could have been President of the US one day had he not been such a double douche bag.



3. Jesse Jackson: What can one say about this Reverend of lies and preacher of divisive hatred. How can I count the ways that this man has driven stakes through the heart of this country and squeezed his popularity from the butt cheeks of the lowest of American ideals and ignorance. This man is so much worse than the bigotry and hatred he espouses to be an opponent of that if there is any justice in heaven, Martin Luther King Jr. will be waiting for him with a shovel and an angel’s rifle to make sure Jesse Jackson digs his own path to the shit pit of hell he deserves to boil in for eternity.



4. Mark David Chapman: This asshole shot John Lennon because he wanted to “kill the image on an album cover.” It’s a shame he didn’t hold the record up to his forehead before he pulled the trigger.
   
   

5. Lyndon Baines Johnson: This man directly profited from the assassination of a sitting United States President and was most likely complicit in his death. He then went on to escalate a war in Southeast Asia that cost the lives of hundreds of thousands and gained absolutely nothing in the advance of human freedom. That being said, because of him, there were laborious hours of wonderful music produced in protest of his very existence and acts while wielding power in this world, so it’s really a wash in the end.



6. Charles Manson: What can one say about this ego-maniacal lunatic who still believes he is the chosen one to usher in a great race war and then assume messianic control of the earth after black blood flows in the gutter along with white blood? I think that just about says it all.



7. Kenneth Lay: This piece of shit is still walking free after financially raping thousands of people who worked their fingers to the nubs for him. He is the Gollum of corporate America and if there is any justice in this world, he will be reincarnated as Roseanne Barr’s G-string.



8. Jim Jones: Here’s another ego-maniacal lunatic who massaged the religious faith of people in group psychology mode, broke them away from their friends and family, moved them out of the country, had them shoot and kill a United States Federal agent and then commit mass suicide when the deal went south from there. He and Charlie Manson will be subject to an eternity of co-starring in Satan’s gay porn videos without Vaseline.



9. Hillary Clinton: This is the most evil woman ever to walk the face of the earth. She is so power-hungry and vicious that she actually makes her husband a sympathetic figure in light of the fact that he has to navigate around her treacherous mind, moods, and emotions on a regular basis. If this woman ever seizes any more power than she’s already sold her soul to capture, consider it the beginning of the end of freedom in this world.



10. Michael Moore: I know it’s trendy to pick on Michael Moore, but he really is the worst American ever. He and his propaganda have done more to aid the Islamo-Fascist movement world-wide then even Osama himself. There is nothing endearing or funny about this man’s wit or his malicious world-view of the haves and have-nots. His confrontational “gotcha” style interviews are more sensational and than substantial but also do more to drum up political support for ephemeral causes and happenstance occurrences that generally play right into the hands of the enemies of America, both foreign and domestic. A statue bust should be erected of this man and placed in the urinal of the White House with a fountain that ensures his image will spit Presidential piss for the rest of this country’s existence.

And there you have the Boys Wear Pants Top Ten List of the Worst Americans.

...According to this online article by Doug Thompson, President Bush is reported to have said, in regards to the Patriot Act:

“Mr. President,” one aide in the meeting said. “There is a valid case that the provisions in this law undermine the Constitution.”

“Stop throwing the Constitution in my face,” Bush screamed back. “It’s just a goddamned piece of paper!”

I’ve talked to three people present for the meeting that day and they all confirm that the President of the United States called the Constitution “a goddamned piece of paper.”

This article is totally biased as the Anti-Bush position bleeds from every article, verb, and pronoun in it. But this is a direct quote within the article and if the President said it, I can't begin to express my disappointment.

This man took an oath to protect and defend the Constitution, not denigrate and subvert it. I pray this isn't true.

If you only listen to one podcast in your daily routine, I urge you, beg you, implore you, to listen to Skepticality.

One of the co-hosts, Derek, recently had some pretty major health issues which left him in a coma and in some pretty extensive rehabiliation upon waking up.

But he's now been back for two episodes, and while his voice is challenged and strained, the same old brilliant thinker is finally back behind the microphone.

I'm a skeptic in some aspects and a believer in others but the conversations and interviews that Derek and Swoopie get into are some of the loftiest and high-brow intellectual exchanges that I've come across either online or offline.

In their latest episode, Tom Flynn, absolutely skewers the tradition of Christmas in our culture. He is an atheist and what Bill O'Reilly would no doubt call a General in the War Against Christmas.

And while I agree with everything he said, I'm still a practicioner of Christmas rituals (besides going to church); this is because Christmas to me is much more about family and exchanges of gifts and well-wishes than anything else. This may change in the future, but at any length you will be doing yourself a disservice if you don't listen to this half-hour podcast that will no doubt leave you feeling different about the origins and practice of this national holiday.

Welcome back Derek--you were sorely missed!

TAGS: Skepticality, Tom Flynn

First of all, I don't care that Vonnegut is a socialist--he's a national treasure and an outright brilliant author. You will find, the more you read me, that I believe that proper art trumps politics in the matter of universal importance. This is because politics is the problem and art is one of the solutions.

This book is one of Vonnegut's "truth" books, meaning that he just comes right out and says it. And he's still funny as shit at 82 years old.

There were about ten times where I genuinely laughed out loud at Vonnegut's humor. Check this out:

Last night I dreamed I was eating flannel cakes and when I woke up the blanket was gone.

That type of joke within the framework of a joke is the essence of Vonnegut's writing.

I remember a blurb quote on the back of one of his paperbacks (I think it was Cat's Cradle but don't quote me on that) which referred to him as "Mad prophet laughing all the way to Armageddon." I fell in love with Vonnegut's work with that one phrase because it sums him up perfectly and there is a deep part of my artistic soul that stands shoulder to shoulder with him in this outlook.

Deep inside, I know that everything is turning to shit in our world but somehow I still see the humor in life; I can still find the diamond floating in the turds.

Vonnegut claims in this short book that he's gotten too old to see the humor, but I have a feeling that he's letting Kilgore Trout come through a little too much (in other words, he's talking out his ass).

The man is as brilliant at 82 as he's always been and you won't be disappointed by this book.

In fact, I'm going to make it a tentative goal to reread all of his books this year in order of print. We'll see what happens with that.

January 20, 2009

The following is an advance copy of the 44th President Elect's Inaugural Address. The speech has been moved from outside the Capital to the Jefferson Memorial.

My fellow Americans...

First, let me thank you for the overwhelming support that has made me the youngest US President in the history of our great country. This has been a whirlwind campaign.

I am very pleased to report to you that, while I received millions in campaign donations, this successful four-year bid for the Presidency has cost me only a few hundred thousand dollars. In fact, after expenses, my campaign is still in the black some 35 million dollars, all of which will be donated to the new Public Education fund which I will start as my first act in office.

The Public Education Fund will not support lower schools, public or private. Nor will it fund the bloated and ridiculous collegiate system which has grown fat and lazy on the government's teat. My Public Education Fund will directly support libraries across this nation as that is the true source of public education.

When I was a young man, searching for a purpose in life; I was able to walk into a public library and follow my passions to that purpose. Without a public plethora of information and art, I would not be standing before you today and that is why as my first act as President, I will cut the apron strings between education and government and in doing so, will open the coffers of government to the will and desire of the many millions of individual citizens looking for a better way of life.

After all, this is what has made America strong despite the volcano of African slavery, the genocide of the American Indian, and the unprovoked invasion of foreign countries to secure land and resources that the sword of our precious democracy has been forged in. We will be working closely with our Canadian and Mexican friends to ensure that all three countries are safe from foreign invaders.

That being said, we still want to encourage talented, passionate, and worthy immigrants to enjoy the present and contribute to the future prosperity of our great nation. There will likely be some growing pains as we secure these borders, so I am going to ask in advance for your patience and understanding and willingness to change in order to secure ourselves. And expect stricter regulations and inspections of interstate shipping via train, truck, airplane, or cargo ship.

I will also continue the previous administration's policy of analyzing the information flow within and outside of our country. I absolutely adhere to and believe in the fourth amendment and I will be working with lawmakers and judges to ensure that your fourth amendment rights are protected while still allowing this government to protect your civil security through knowledge of what is being talked about online and offline.

When I said we stand at a moment of great choice regarding fossil fuels, here is what I meant. We live in a world of scarce resources and these fossil fuel resources drive our economies, our armies, and our future progress. And instead of focusing on truly developing technologies and methodologies of energy power beyond fossil fuels, which would allow us to terraform into space, colonize other worlds and begin extracting their fossil fuels for future use, past administrations have engaged in a global board game to secure what's left of the present at the expense of the future of our species.

This was not only incredibly short-sighted; it was arrogant and plain stupid.

So now we have a choice to make--either we pull back on our consumption and model of energy use or we continue on the Godless campaign to secure the world's fossil fuels while starving and murdering at least 1/3 of it's population in order to balance supply and demand.

I'm sure that you're not used to public officials speaking to you with such candor but I assure you that there is no time to mince words because this choice has to be made yesterday.

On top of this, consider that if we pull out of Middle East politics and release our military claim to their oil resources, there is a very real possibility that a nuclear conflict will erupt between the Arab states and Israel. It is likely that Israel will not survive and that a mega-conglomerate Islamic nation will arise who has America in its cross-hairs.

My administration will do our best to build up civil defense measures by providing all communities in this country with bomb shelters and funding, supporting, and encouraging local militias to be organized who can work with the National Guard and reestablish communications as well as provide armed civil defense should any enemy be foolish enough to strike within our borders.

This is a moral decision that the American people have to make because the previous administration staked our claim on the world with the statement that the American way of life is non-negotiable and this way of life is fueled by oil. So either we secure these assets through threat of force and invasion or we seriously undertake a willing paradigm shift into a new way of existence that is not dependent on fossil fuels.

It is one way or the either, there is no more time to stand any longer waiting to make a decision at the crossroads.

What I am talking about here is a fundamental transformation in the way we shop, how we work, and even how we spend our leisure time. Unfortunately, either path we choose will mean a significant reduction in the population of our species on this planet. The United States will simply be unable to continue to supply the world with food and other resources after we move to a new paradigm emphasizing virtual rather than physical communication and travel and alternative fuels as opposed to traditional carbon-based fossil fuels.

It is my sincere hope that our earnest endeavors to replace our dependence on these limited resources will yield technology which will allow us to terraform into outer space and seize additional resources in the form of asteroid, comet, moon, and planet mining operations which will allow us to rebuild the population of our species well beyond even the current level here on Earth.

But in the short-run, this unfortunately means that many millions will likely starve to death or perish as a result of tyrannical dictatorships armed with weapons of mass destruction and hell bent on destroying the populations of their own countries.

My fellow Americans, this is a time where we must make selfish decisions for the future sake of all mankind. We stand upon a moored vessel and are waving at the legions left on the shore. We don’t have to feel good about departing from their company, but this is a journey that must be made lest we all descend into the madness that our rape of the environment and our search for the quick and easy solution has wrought for our entire species.

This will be a period of great change, great struggle, and great sacrifice for our species; but these undertakings are nothing new to this country and the great men, women, and children who inhabit these bountiful towns, cities, and states.

And I am calling upon that collective strength, wisdom, and compassion to do the hard thing because it is the right thing. I will be a rock for you all to lean upon but I need you to be the gravity that keeps the rock in place between the hard earth and the open sky.

We begin making the future today, this moment and each that follows after it. Thank you for your trust in my leadership. I will not let you down.

This was, quite possibly, the shittiest book I have ever read. If anyone were to say to you that this monotonous drivel is their favorite book, or even a book that they respect, doubt their intelligence and sense of literary value immediately.

If this book gives any insight about Kerouac's character, it would be that he is the most superficial man imagineable, rootless, pointless, and whose insights on the nature of the universe and life in general spawned only from drug-induced psycho-babble.

I was told by one of my college roommates (before he ran off to Europe and never came back) that this book changed his life and inspired him to get out and "see the world."

Needless to say, he was on drugs at the time.

Weren't we all?

If I had to pick the one thing that helped my career more than any other (besides getting a four-year degree), it would have to be mastering Microsoft Excel.

I graduated college with an English degree which meant that I never even launched Microsoft Excel and really didn't use it until about four years ago.

Originally, I thought it was just a way to table things out and format easier than in Microsoft Word. But the truth is that once you understand how formulas work in Excel, you are one step closer to your next promotion.

Anyone who still uses a calculator when they have easy access to Excel (and the knowledge to use it) is a fool. Chances are that your company has a resident expert at Excel. If so, ask your boss and that person if it would be okay to sit with them and go over some Excel basics for an hour or so. Also, many companies have excellent online training courses or even will agree to pay for your offsite training (this is the course I took).

Once you begin using Excel to analyze the relationships between numbers, you will begin to think differently about your business. This is because every business and every position in every business has a magic number associted with it and the sooner you understand the nature, history, and effect of these numbers on all the other numbers in the company, you are on your way to becoming a better leader in your circle of influence.

The key formulas to understand are:

• SUM
• AVERAGE
• IF
• COUNTA
• VLOOKUP

The key skills to learn about are:

Conditional Formatting
• Pivot Tables/Charts
• Basic formatting (shades and borders)
• Setting page margins and print ranges

There is a ton more stuff that you will eventually pick up but all that will come as necessity dictates. One thing to keep in mind is that this is a tool to help you do your work easier; so, while there is a lot of upfront work, the results on the back end will save you enormous future time and effort.

And if all else fails, go to Microsoft and use the F1 help feature within Excel to learn how to do new things.

Trust me, few things you take the time to master will repay you with the boons that learning Excel will offer to you.

...that I would consider giving up writing if it was a vocation that I chose instead of one which chose me.

A new study projects that 11 million people in this country cannot read. For those that can do math, that's about 4% of our population who can't translate written language into mental pictures to create a mosaic of understanding from one mind to another.

I've often said that the person who can read and doesn't is no better off than the one who can't. Even if you don't have time to read a paper book, there are great audio books now that could be turning the time you spend in the car, waiting in line and walking through the grocery store, exercising, cleaning your house, etc. into quiet library study time.

So, there is no excuse for not learning, even if you can't read.

After all, unless you're deaf, you have no excuses anymore. Consider this quote from this story:

Perhaps most sobering was that adult literacy dropped or was flat across every level of education, from people with graduate degrees to those who dropped out of high school. So even as more people get a formal education, the literacy rate is not rising.

This is the most depressing part for me because, as I try to connect with coworkers, distant friends, close friends, and even some family members, I hit a total wall of resistance when it comes to getting them to get on the internet pop on this site and keep up with my blog on a regular basis.

And these are people who know me well and are probably interested in what is going on in my head and in my life (of course there are also loved ones including friends and family who do keep up with this blog on a daily basis and I am eternally grateful for that time and attention they have lavished upon me).

But the point remains...this study is thoroughly depressing.

So, I was flying home from Florida yesterday and because the weather in Ohio was so shitty, I was delayed at the airport for like three hours.

So, I spent $10 on an XBox magazine because it came with a demo disc that had King Kong on it and this is one of those games I wanted to try before I bought.

Well, I don't have an original XBox. I have a 360 and the disc clearly said that there were several XBOX 360 game trailers, movies, etc. So, one would reasonably assert that the disc would play in the XBOX 360 or that there would be a quick download from the XBOX Live server that would make it playable.

One would think that but one would be dead shot in the ass wrong because not only did I not get to play King Kong, I couldn't even watch any of the game trailers. So, I spent $10 on a 3$ magazine and a $7 disc that wouldn't even play in my $400 gaming system from a magazine that is dedicated to pushing this new system on a cost-concerned customer segment.

It's just stupid and this will probably be the last XBOX magazine I ever buy. I'll just read it at Barnes & Noble or listen to Major Nelson's podcast to get all my news.

In the end, I'm just pissed off at the whole situation.

So, I finished Longitudes and Attitudes and I have to say that it was a thoroughly enlightening work. See, I have no patience for Middle Eastern politics, which is why it was very easy for me, after 9/11, to say, "Invade them all--annex their countries, seize their oil, and if they have anything else to say about it besides, "Thank You, Sir, may I have another?"--bring out the Bradley tanks and shut 'em down like Public Enemy.

But that was back in the days when my political mindset was much more Scarface than The Godfather. Today, I'm thinking on a whole new level. Friedman's book and his writing, focused on globalization and how different countries and cultures have to overcome obstacles to make this thing work without blowing ourselves into an early evolutionary grave, are level-headed, fact-filled, and usually first person meaning that he actually meets with these foreign dignitaries and citizens and you're getting something filtered through the adminsitration, the main stream media, or third-hand by blogging experts (as important as they are).

And actually, I perceived Friedman to be conservative much more than liberal which I intially pegged him for (probably because he writes for the New York Times).

This book was written in 2002 and contains his thoughts on the world after September 11, 2001; these thoughts are bent on the Middle East and what produced the radical Islamist fanaticism in those fifteen hijackers that caused them to make the ultimate sacrifice to murder thousands of innocent people.

Here is the ultimate irony I walked away with--that conservatives in the US have gone all in during a global poker game on the hopes that liberals in the Middle East will match the pot and play the hand with them.

Talk about betting on the margins...

So, I changed up the style of Boys Wear Pants (if you're an RSS reader, you'll need to click through to see this).

Every usability expert always talks about how you have to get a lot of different people with a lot of different computers and operating systems to look at your blog and let you know what they think; then, by some miracle, you're supposed to jumble all of their suggestions into a new presentation that makes it easy for people other than you to read your site and find what they're looking for.

In the older format, I went for the two-sidebar approach which worked well for me because I was able to put content on the left sidebar and character stuff on the right with some advertisements thrown on their randomly.

But once I started working my new job and accessing my blog via the corporate Intranet, I realized how shitty it looked on a normal screen (my laptop has a 17" widescreen which is nice regardless what you're looking at). So, I've been kicking around transitioning to a one sidebar format and fooling a bit with the colors.

I'm going to delve into Darren's series on Adsense and Chitika placement and really streamline this blog as well as my new Family Bliss Blog which is much more niched that this wild and crazy beast called Boys Wear Pants.

I finished my second watching of the entire series Freaks and Geeks and I have definitely fallen in love with the show.

During the first watching I felt an infatuation but this is the full blown real thing. I never watched the show when it was on television, which is unfortunate because that is precisely the reason why it was cancelled. This is one of those shows that becomes painful to watch because it's painfully clear how truly great it could have become.

Most shows sputter during their first couple of seasons with a couple of occasional bonfire episodes. But gang, every single episode of this show is a brilliant fireworks display with quite a few grand finales thrown in for good measure.

The theme song "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett is the second coolest opening song for any show (behind A3's "Woke Up This Morning" on The Sopranos).

Judd Apatow won me over with his show Undeclared about a group of college freshmen; a show which also met the same freshman year fate of being cancelled. But after watching Freaks and Geeks, it's obvious that this guy is a superstar at putting together ensemble casts.

In the final episode, when Lindsay runs off to follow the Dead, you have just about one of the best synthetic conclusions to any cancelled show I've ever seen. In other words, somehow everything fits.

The fact that the show takes place in the early 1980s gives it great era stylistic appeal as I can totally relate with the world and society it recreates. But the relationships between the characters and the high school social dramas they draw upon as the Freaks and Geeks intermingle in each others' lives are so universal that at times I felt that I was right back in homeroom in high school.

Trust me gang, if you've got 22 hours to kill over the course of a few weeks, you could do far worse that shelling out the duckets for this boxed set and watching one a night before you go to bed.

Tell 'em Uncle Josh sent ya'...

Jordan awakens with a jolt. He is disoriented, but he still knows his boundaries. He can see the bubble clearly now. What is it about God? He has never thought about it, but now he knows. He knows with complete certainty what happens next. If he were living two thousand years before, they’d have called him a prophet. Now, the only ones who know his situation would call him a plague.

He stands up and flexes the muscles of his arms. He pronates his palms and supinates them back again. The veins are standing out in his wrist. They pump blood that created a civilization and then destroyed it. They pump blood that will destroy again. He kicks down the door with preternatural strength unparalleled in his species. The shadow figure is an offering to the fire. He’s a sacrifice consumed in the ever-burning fire. Jordan feeds that fire.

He walks at a pace unequaled by even the rover vehicles of the Moon Colony. He no longer needs a suit for protection, he is the plague. He is death. He is the collapse of Universe they fear so much. He was unsure before he saw the translucent onion peel of the bubbled dome. He knows the dark and he knows the light. He is both and the shadow shows features light refuses to acknowledge.

He reaches the sunlight. He is drenched in the yellow part of the spectrum. It gives him power beyond power. It’s a solar battery fueling an electrical storm. He’s a fire plague, riding on the back of a locust swarm. The seals have been opened and the trumpeters trumpet. The horses are riding and the locusts are leading, the trumpets shoot fire from their horns. Rough beast, it’s hour come round at last; sloughing nearer to the golden eye of destiny.

He is careful when he reaches the colony. He enters with the pace of a human. No one must know. It’s a silent storm, very personal. He walks past the guard, through the gates. The computer no longer recognizes him as human. It doesn’t make a sound.

He doesn’t pay attention to the humans; they come later. He kicks in the door to the temple with the same ease as the VLA shack. The material doesn’t have the density of his heart. The heart is heating. The blood is beginning to bubble and pop. His fists clench as he walks down the hallway. The trumpets stop trumpeting and the horses stop riding. The locusts are gone, but the fire’s still burning.

When he reaches the door, it slides open, and the men seem to be expecting him. They are seated and looking at him with interested gazes. He walks in and immediately sees the white-hair man to his right.

The man speaks, “Boy, I know you’re angry. But you must listen to reason.” He is backing away and Jordan is walking closer. “I…I…We, we thought it would be best for your safety…”

Jordan grabs the man by the collar, “Enough talk. We have business.” He slams the man into the wall and the diamond-steel sword falls and clangs. He holds him in place with one hand. He turns to look at the others.

Jordan’s eyes turn bloody, then white-hot. The council members all drop to their knees with their arms back to support them in a triangle posture. They look up to the ceiling. Their eyes glow white-hot as well. Spandex suits catch fire at the sternum. Skin is completely melted away and hearts are bubbling and popping as if they were on a spit. Eyes fade Antarctic-blue and the hearts tumble from their chests and lie smoking on the floor under the table. Bodies go limp.

The white-hair man still lives. “Jordan, I know you’re upset, but please try to listen to reason. We didn’t need them, Jordan. They never did anything anyway. It was I, Jordan; I set it all up. I executed everything. I’m the one who built history and revised it. I can help you. I’ll work with you now. You need me, Jordan.”

Jordan drags the man, with one arm, down the hallway. Two guards rush out to stop him. Their hair catches flame and blood pours from their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths. Jordan drags the man into the VLA room. He swings the white-haired mass towards the computer console. “Take a reading.” His voice booms off the walls.

The man pushes buttons and a picture appears on the CCD monitor. ERROR….ERROR … ERROR, flashes across the screen. The man says, “My God, the size of the Universe is less than zero. How can that be?” The man appears to have forgotten Jordan in his crisis of observation.

Jordan walks calmly towards the computer and smacks the man’s hands away from the keyboard. “Have you ever been dead and didn’t know it? I want you to know the secret that’s been kept from you for so long.” Jordan pushes the return button and the computer takes another reading. The answer comes back and the man’s face contorts in fear as he scoots against the wall with a force that knocks computer chips off the shelves.

He says, “Impossible. Unthinkable.”

The computer gives a reading for the size of the Universe that is bigger than the initial reading taken 57 years ago. Jordan looks at the man, then looks away. He says, “Everything ends old man. Your time is over and your temple is crumbling.”

The foundation trembles. Jordan’s eyes display the heart’s rise in temperature. The white-hair man leans up on his knees and looks to the sky. Same routine, same fire. Same sound the heart makes falling to the floor. The building’s coming down.

Jordan hacks the man’s head with the diamond-steel sword and carries them both out of the convulsing building. Tapestries are falling to the ground and being smashed by pillars of metal. The building has toppled and the council has fallen.

© 1998 by Joshua Minton

As an independent thinker, I believe in giving equal voice to both sides. My core values dictate economic and social freedom on the individual level and are, at the same time, very suspicious of governments, institions or groups of people united under any agenda whatsoever (this includes churches and civic groups as well).

I realize that a lot of social good has come from these social structures and that the general living standard of the average human being (especially the average American citizen) has been improved greatly because of these types of social networks, but I still live under the umbrella maxim that I would never be a member of any group that would have me.

In the spirit of giving equal voice to both sides, and in my fascination for conspiracy theories, I have sought out the liberal Bible which explains 9/11 and answers the question of what is driving their worldview to overthrow the Bush presidency and what exactly they would do with the country (hence the world) should they ever seize the platform of world power.

I believe I have found this book, which is titled Crossing the Rubicon: The Decline of the American Empire at the End of the Age of Oil (affiliate link) by Michael C. Ruppert. I am only 41 pages into it and I am absolutely scared shitless. The author lays his cards on the table on the first page of the introduction when he calls 9/11 a "homicide" and states the results of his investigation:

With respect to Al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden, that critical litmus test for anymurder prosecution--means, motive, and opportunity--has never been fully applied. In a capital case each of these components would require demonstration "beyond a shadow of a doubt." Regardless of whom the suspect(s) turns out to be, these are the basic questions every homicide investigator must seek to answer in the course of the investigation. In the end, the only "suspects" found to meet all of these criteria will not be al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden. They will instead be a group of people operating within certain government agencies, including the White House, for the benefit of major financial interests within the United States and in other countries. This group will specifically include parts of the administrations of George W. Bush and, before it, the administration of William Jefferson Clinton. However, the only possible unifying thread will be the intelligence community and, in particular, the United States Secret Service and the Central Intelligence Agency. I realize that this is a frightening statement. I submit that by the end of this book it will be the only statement that encompasses and reasonably explains the facts as documented.(1)

So there it is, nothing we haven't heard before from Michael Moore or Al-Jazeera. This isn't what concerns me, even if it's true. Bill Hicks said it best when he said, "All governments are lying cock-suckers."

What worries me is the last section of the introduction and the first chapter on oil, titled "Petroleum Man." It worries me because it connects my fears about the true nature of our government's (seemingly) failed War on Drugs and the rising costs and dwindelilng global supplies of hydrocarbon fuels.

Any free-thinking and intelligent individual can ascertain that the US government's War on Drugs is the biggest bullshit foreign and domestic policy abuse against American citizens since the passing of the Amendment banning the sale and production of alcoholic beverages and before that the levying of the income tax in an immoral meaure of class warfare.

And the same intelligent individual can see that the rapidly rising cost of fuel and the dependence on foreign sources of energy mean, not only that the American fuel supply isn't enough to sustain the country, but that the global fuel supply isn't enough to sustain the world for any more than 30-40 more years if we're lucky.

The author is basically saying that the global drug trade is in the hands of the United States intelligence agencies and has been their primary focus for over thirty years, representing billions and billions of dollars in liquid capital which is being allocated to securing the little remaining planetary hydrocarbon fuel in an effort to marginalize and to eradication a siginificant portion of the world's human population to a more sustainable level.

Thinking on this level and in this direction is like Oliver Stone's brain on steroids and I don't know how people who agree with this weltanschauung don't put a pistol in their mouth immediately. Still, I find the idea fascinating and worth reading further into.

Please don't think I'm putting words in the author's mouth, because here is another passage from the end of the introduction:

Now look at the barrel of oil and realize that the earth is a closeed sphere, and that without the oil and natural gas, the financial system is doomed. There is nothing on our horizon--other than wishful thinking--that can completely replace hydrocarbon energy. The surest way to see this is to realize that, as the human race starts down the inevitable slope of shrinking oil and gas supplies, we have seen no hydrogen-powered F 18 Hornets or M1 Abrams tanks. We have seen no vegetable oil-powered Bradley fighting vehicles or solar powered guided missile frigates.

There are many factors that the rulers of the American empire now have to manage as they read their own delusional map of the world. They have to:

• Apportion dwindling resources among competitors, some of whom posess nuclear weapons;

• Maintain and expand their control over enough of the oil and gas remaining to ensure their global dominance and maintain order among the citizens of thei Empire;

• Simultaneously manage a global economic system, made possible by hydrocarbon energy, that is collapsing and in which the growing population is demanding more things that can only be supplied by using still more hydrocarbon energy;

• Acknowledge that they cannot save their own economy without selling more of these products;

• Control the exploding demand for oil and gas through engineered recessions and wars that break national economies;

• Hide the evidence that they are systematically looting the wealth of all the people on the planet--even their own people--in order to maintain control;

• Maintain a secret revenue stream to provide enough off-the-books capital for the purposes of providing themselves a distinct economic and military advantage, improving their technological posture, and funding covert operations;

• Repress any dissent and head off any exposure of their actions;

• Convince the population that they are honorable;

• Kill off enough of the world's population so that they can maintain control after oil supplies have dwindled to the point of energy starvation.(19-20)

Here is what I need: I need Antimdia, JD, Michelle Malkin, Anne Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, Neil Boortz and all the experts to prove why this guy's argument is wrong. Notice I didn't say prove why this guy is wrong because I don't really care about the personality behind the argument; I care about the solidity of the facts within the argument. Too many on the right and left resort to ad hominem attacks to discredit the argument of their opponent. I won't allow that here when it concerns the lives of 3,000 of my fellow countrymen and women and how many others in the War on Drugs and the War on Terror that followed it.

I'm honestly asking to prove why the argument in this book is wrong because if they can't do that, and if there is even a small element of truth to this, then the human race would go down into own destruction with the shame of having could have been so much more but failing the ultimate test of character and vision.

We would have spent the little remaining resoruces the earth possesses in fruitless squabbles instead of focusing our minds and our spirits into developing the means with which to travel to new worlds and harness new sources of energy from the countless planets, asteroids, comets, and moons that are just waiting to be annexed.

I'm begging you guys to please help me from throwing in with liberals because if this is true and all the debates and speeches are just smoke and mirrors, then it's time to buy a few firearms, move my family to the woods and practice hunting and shooting so that when we are forceably returned to an agrarian lifestyle in the absence of hydrocarbon fuel, I and my family won't starve.

Help...


TAGS: 9/11, Crossing the Rubicon, Michael C. Ruppert, War on Drugs, War on Terror, Conspiracy, Oil

Jordan shuts off the computer and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. In one motion, he brushes a palm over his bald head, exhales, and looks out the tinted fiberglass window of the room. He sees at a sword made of diamond and steel, hung on the wall. He looks at the table he’s sitting at. It’s made of a material he has never seen before. He remembers wood in his other memory, the un-individual one. He sees forests of trees, cut down for space that would never be used. He feels the planet suffocating. The planet grows novel-new lungs to breathe in a metamorphasized environment, but the creatures on its surface are doomed to a revolution beyond their control.

Jordan knows that the council is powerful. He knows that his blood is stronger than theirs, but he doesn’t understand what a danger that is. He doesn’t know how much time has passed in this room, reading these files.

He thinks of his mother’s death. He does not feel anger or hostility. The Elders were correct when they said that morality is strictly a human trait. The only thing Jordan feels is ice sliding down a heated surface using its own water as momentum. Words come up to justify what use to bleed inside him.

The door slides open and the white-hair man enters, his seven minions follow. “So have you completed the file?”

“Yes, I‘ve read it,” Jordan says.

The man’s voice is stern, “And…”

“And, I think you had to do what you had do to.” Jordan lies well.

“So, there is no moral judgement you wish to pass on us?” The man sounds confused.

Jordan says, “None. But I’ve had no visions, dreams, or thoughts that pertain to the Universe.”

“Nothing whatsoever?” The man’s voice wavers and Jordan detects a moment of panic in the group mind. He shakes his head.

“Then I’m sorry, but we must take you to a place where you can be closely monitored.” The man gets up. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He walks closer.

Jordan backs the chair up to the wall and stands up. He eyes the men. No one is moving but the man with white hair. He is talking, but Jordan is not listening to what he’s saying. Instead, he’s considering an escape route. He sees the door and the panel for the door. He sees three obstacles in his way, one council member, the panel, and the door itself. He runs, full force, into the council member closest to the door. No one is moving, except the fallen councilman and the slow moving white-hair man, but Jordan doesn’t notice. He goes for the panel. The light flashes red and the door slides open. He runs into the hall. No one is moving now, but Jordan is gone and doesn’t care any longer.

He makes it halfway down the hall, when he is seized by two of the temple guards. He feels a piercing pain in his neck, an injection. His eyelids drop and he forgets himself.

© 1998 by Joshua Minton

Elder File # 10111
Jordan Mabusco-67-1812

This file pertains to the lunar citizen Jordan Mabusco-67-1812, male child, born of Meredith Mabusco-67, one of the original inhabitants of the colony. She is the only living original inhabitant. As of the writing of this file, steps are being taken to ensure she will live no longer. This is an unfortunate task we must complete, as her induced silence has protected the colony from a possible civil war. But recent events dictate that we must eliminate her to ensure our way of life.

The boy, Jordan, will be given the heart of the alien creature. We plan to acquire the boy, drug him, and take him to the VLA shack on the far side of the Moon. This shack houses the operating console for the VLA telescope and provides our galactic knowledge, interpreted in the VLA room of this temple.

It is pertinent that the boy be given the heart and that his dreams be monitored from this point forth. We have learned this day that the size of the Universe has halved in only one year. This is quite disturbing and we are becoming anxious. This boy is our last hope at understanding this phenomenon before our own galaxy and star system is consumed in the void.

Jordan Mabusco is a direct genetic descendent of the ancient Hebrew, Jesus of Nazareth. This young Essene wandered into a cave where the Keeper of the Heart was chained to a wall. The Essene, Jesus, was a member of the Qumran Monastery. He was an orphan, abandoned at birth. The monks of Qumran raised him in the hopes of his eventually becoming a great teacher. We are unsure how, or at what time, but the keeper eventually persuaded the young Jesus to consume the Heart.

We weren’t aware that the keeper of the heart was dead for some time. We heard from one of the Jewish Rabbi’s that a man was preaching love and brotherly acceptance. This was completely against any doctrine that we allowed to be given to the human population. We had decided long before, that humans must operate on a system of conflict within the species. This was the only way to protect the knowledge of us from them. We walked amongst humans and collected information about them. We used this information to parcel out law and doctrine to human beings that would shape their sociological evolution. We established the borders between lands. We knew methods of travel that human beings would not discover for thousands of years. We understood the computer milleniums before they were built. The blood of the alien, combined with our collective mind, gave us this knowledge. Our sole purpose was to use the combined efforts of the human race to build a civilization that would encapsulate the knowledge the blood had given us. The means to apply this knowledge died with the alien, but if we were to slowly inject idea and symbol into the human race, surely over time this would lead us to the same goal and we could recapture what was lost to us, namely a knowledge of the creator of the Universe.

There was always a difference between us and the one who held the Heart. The Keeper of the heart was always against any of our social patterns or experiments. The keeper always argued on the basis of individual freedom. For many hundreds of years, the keeper sat in council with us. He traveled with us to foreign lands and helped us to set up civilizations that would flower, prosper, and eventually die. Then the Keeper of the Heart turned against us and we were forced to imprison him with chains. As powerful as the heart is, it is still limited to the human frame. If the heart is outside of the human frame, it will eventually die. When it dies, we will also die since we are directly connected to it. We discovered this when we attempted to murder the keeper that rebelled. As the heart slowed its beat, our hearts also slowed beating. We were frantic to find a new keeper. We caught a Hebrew slave in Egypt, force-fed him the Heart, and kept him chained to a wall for over three hundred years.

This heart also increases strength in the keeper as time progresses, so we found it useful to periodically kill the keeper and exchange bodies, usually every 400 years. We did this systematically, until Jesus came into the picture. He stole the heart and was preaching a doctrine to human beings that was contrary to anything we would have allowed them to be told. We went and saw him speak to the multitudes. We saw him raise a man from the dead. When this happened, we knew he possessed the heart. This heart has many faculties that we do not possess. The ability to grant life and take it away, is one such faculty. There are other abilities that do not need to be listed for the present purposes.

We spoke with our Rabbis in the temple. We spoke with our Roman minions. We spoke with all parties involved and arranged for the man’s assassination. We also made it completely clear where he was to be buried, so that we could reclaim the heart. Everything was carried out to plan. Jesus was crucified, died, and was buried. He did not rise from the grave, as so many of his followers believe. What is left of his body, lies buried on Golgotha only feet away from where he was crucified over two thousand years ago. We buried Jesus’ message of brotherly freedom under deep dogma that justified war and the death of millions.

What we were not aware of, however, was that this man had procreated after he became one with the heart. It should be noted at this point that the introduction of the heart’s spirit into the bloodstream completely alters the genetics. This alteration had not been allowed into the human population since the original merging of alien and human spirit. We did not find out until about a thousand years later. It was at the close of the crusades. (A side note: It was one of our greatest accomplishments that we introduced the war over symbols into the human population. This was a fantastic turn of events that humans would begin to act as if these symbols were actual facts, when they really had no existence independent of thought. This allowed us to have confidential operation in the politics of the world until the Final War.)

In the year 1071, a Roman priest was giving a confessional, when a young woman came in and slipped decaying documents to him. These documents were written in Aramaic, and when eventually transcribed, told of Jesus’s copulation with a woman named Mary Magdalene. It told of his family line existing in complete secrecy. The baby was taken out of Jerusalem altogether and was bound for Greece (the text postulated). We spent hundreds of years attempting to trace the lineage of Jesus, with no success. The world had become too big and what we had amounted to no more than mythology and rumor. We were still left with the horrible thought, what if this alien’s blood had been injected into the human population? Eventually a thousand hearts would beat with its power. And soon, ten thousand, a million. Until we were attempting to police a population that was more powerful than we were. I can’t tell you how much this troubled us.

We finally discovered a living relative in the twentieth century through genetic records. We were sure there were more than that, but we found one to concentrate on. His name was Peter Mabos. He was born in the United States (a country at the time). He was born on July 17, 1971. All these dates no longer mean anything to the colonists on the Moon, but it is significant to trace this when discussing the Final War.

This man had extraordinary talents for thinking in sociological terms. He had already solved the world’s financial crises by the time he was twenty. His solution was simple: Dissolve all countries into a common economy of trade under the numbers on computer screens and in the name of humanity. This solution was simple and it would have worked, had we not intervened. The man had already caught the attention of several of his contemporaries and his ideas were beginning to take root.

We approached him and offered him a position with one of the wealthiest banking firms in the world. He accepted and was eventually promoted to the head of the company. This put him in the political spotlight as was common in those times for men of great financial means (especially white males). He was eventually elected as leader of the United States of America.

At this time, countries were still in competition over land and resources. The lines we had drawn on the map still existed and people still fought over them. Human beings became so attached to words, symbols, and ideals that they fought over them like pigs in a trough. Peter Mabos made big changes, and so did we.

When he was elected, Mabos had large ideals that would have been completely impossible to implement a hundred years prior. But he had the ambition and the means to make social changes. He dissolved the congress, senate, and supreme court with the help of the army under martial law. He united all health care under his government’s control. He made every private organization in the country a subsidiary of his government. He appointed cabinet members for each organization and brought it under government control. He closed all borders and dissolved all immigration and discrimination laws; every human being was now an equal slave in the eyes of the government. He used the intelligence agency we had set up, to organize files on every citizen of his country. He used these files to organize lists of individuals who would be the most likely to protest against his system. These individuals were to be drafted into the army to die for Mabos’s cause. If they refused to go, they were neutralized. Mabos was the essence of the perfect dictator, but he was no match for this council.

Eventually, with the use of media propaganda and a chemical to promote the control of thoughts, Mabos arranged his government into a tool that he attempted to take over the world with. He dumped this chemical into his country’s water supplies. Structurally, the chemical was so small that it even passed through the water filters that were such a popular household appliance at the time. And when the country was his to command, he turned to international matters.

It should be noted that we allowed Mabos to assume complete control over his society. We allowed him access to this chemical of mind control. We gave him open access to all media and even instructed our minions who owned these institutions, to promote Mabos’s image and make it popular to the people of his country.

Mabos had a simple plan for world unity, and we had a plan that went beyond his. We believed that it was time to purge the world of the majority of its human population. They had grown immensely in numbers and they had given us the technology that we had so long desired from their evolution. But they were fouling the nest. They had already destroyed the majority of their own ecosystem. They had polluted the waters of the planet and put a hole in the ozone, which led to genetic deficiencies from UV exposure. They had, in essence, brought on their own destruction and we were to be the ones that gave it to them.

Mabos was already in control of the most powerful country on the planet. They had the strongest economy and the hard currency of the past had been traded in for the delicate glow of numbers on a computer screen. The transfer of numbers under his government’s control was something at which Mabos was a master. In twelve years time, he had assumed 96% of the world’s economic wealth under his government. Then the terror started.

He expanded his informational society to the world. He had operatives in every country. They compiled lists of world citizens, world religions, world leaders, and anything you would possibly want to know about another country. He built movie theaters, television studios, and newspaper presses in all the world countries. He had a computer system set up to monitor the electronic mail of world citizens. The system was arranged so that any mention of Mabos’ government, or any keywords that could mean rebellion, would be monitored and people were shipped off to the army by the hundreds. He had connected the world through fiber optics and every home had a fiber optic video monitoring system. The “Big Brother” of myth had become a concrete reality of which the human race had no cognizance.

His people regulated the activities of every teacher on the planet. He had a workforce of millions of watchers. He dumped the chemical in the water supply of every major city in the world. He had propaganda in every civilized household by 2018 (only 12 years after he assumed control of his country). He reigned supreme, but his power rested on the fact that his population didn’t realize they were in a totalitarian state because of what they were told to believe. Therefore, he had to maintain that countries were still separate even though the leaders of those nations were minions of Mabos. He still knew nothing about us.

One of his first tasks was to arrange for the completion of the lunar colony. The colony had broken ground in 1999, and delays had set it back to 2020. We made sure that it was pushed on him to continue its production. This colony became our new Eden. Shuttle technology had brought about vehicles that could take off from the Earth and land upright again. We had one designed that could carry cargo and passengers into space. We hand picked several hundred human beings, recruited them as a “research project” in space, and transported them to the Colony.

Mabos had a wife. She had a child. This was Meredith Mabos and the child was Jordan Mabusco. She changed her name when she arrived at the colony for political reasons and to protect the identity of her child. We allowed her to do this, as the child was of a prime interest to us as well. We arranged for her safe transport from the Earth during the beginning stages of the final war.

At the time of the first nuclear strike, we were well aware of the problem of Universal space diminishing. We were aware, and yet we were cautious, as the scientific method always is. We wanted to be sure, and arranging a planetary holocaust isn’t the easiest thing to do. It’s a very delicate matter to destroy 4.5 billion years of evolution. It happened rather quickly though.

In the year 2020, we arranged for several nuclear strikes in Mabos’s country. We contaminated his computers with faulty information that gave the point of origin as the seven most powerful countries in the world. At the time, Mabos was working to remove all nuclear weapons from the planet. The principle rule in all dictatorships is that the threat of terror is more important than terror itself. Removing them was an arduous process because the human beings of the twentieth century collected weapons of mass destruction as a hobby.

He launched a counter-strike against all seven countries that led to an annihilation of 99.7% of all biological life on the planet. We were settled in quite nicely on the lunar colony and watched the Earth die while eating a splendid meal. We are sure the human race didn’t suffer much. The only thing questionable is the mutated people. But fallout clouds had blocked the sun at that time, and the surface of the Earth was somewhere near the freezing point. The mutated ones probably froze before they were aware of their own suffering.

The Earth burned, charred and eventually life fell off the stick. The radiation level hasn’t dropped significantly in thirty years. We’re positive that the only things that could have survived that war are roaches and bacteria. The human race was purged and we created another Noah’s Ark, starting civilization over again. We are the only God the human race has ever known, and anything beyond our existence is pure speculation. But we must be sure.

The myths we used to organize human beings into certain social patterns were founded upon symbols. The symbols of myth are of the same essence as the symbols of dream. This is why we add the bio-chemical compound to the lunar society’s diet. We do not want these people to adhere to symbolism the way their ancestors did, especially when they have knowledge that we live among them. Our very existence depends on our isolation from the Colony.

With yesterday’s discovery of the further shrinking of our Universe, we felt it necessary to secure the boy. We plan to take him off the bio-chemical compound, give him the heart, tell him of its history, and allow him to read this file in hopes that it will open a communication with the spirit of the alien through his dreams. This alien spirit is our only hope to understand why our Universe is collapsing.

© 1998 by Joshua Minton

After putting on the EPS and exiting the depot, Jordan takes a final look back. It’s a small shack, unilluminated and uninteresting, barely detectable in the starlight. He makes the first yawning jump that will take him back to civilization. Jordan has grown up in an environment 1/6 the gravity of the Earth. He has never set foot on the terrestrial planet. He is forever haunted by its presence in the sky above the Colony.

The blue planet, with its rust-red clouds, is a haunting reminder of a mystery inaccessible to the children of the Colony. Jordan’s memory has changed; it’s more vivid and filled with things he has never experienced. Jordan understands that there were once white clouds instead of a halo of dark globulosity preventing any view of the surface. He hears river rush and canyon echo and has no context to place them with. He smells food vendors in the Metropoli and sees people on a constant rush to get somewhere else. His olfactory recalls the putrid aroma of billions of humans he has never met nor seen. The heart is playing tricks on him.

It takes roughly two weeks of constant moving until Jordan views the Earth bright and full in the Moon’s sky. The Tranquility Colony will be within sight in another two days. He has passed the Very Large Array of telescopes. They learned in class that these telescopes could see farther into space than their Earth cousins could, without the veil of the Earth’s atmosphere and it’s air mass blocking their view. But these telescopes still cannot see beyond 10 e-43 seconds after the Big Bang, where the Universe was born as an explosion of space.

Jordan has not eaten and isn’t hungry. His body no longer craves human sustenance. He needs food of a different kind. He is hungry in mind and heart. He feels as if he’s been hungry for twelve million years. His stomach clenches around ideas that are not his own. They belong to another time. They belong outside of time, where thoughts cannot exist. He starts to think about time and what it means to be outside it. His head hurts. He travels on.

When he approaches the colony, he waits outside the main gates that lead to the decompression chamber. This chamber is the only barrier between the constant meteor showers that bombard the Moon with sand-sized stones, and the sanctuary of what is left of the human race. A rover vehicle rolls out and Jordan knifes his way in. He removes his suit and places it on a hook of the wall. He looks around the room. It is white paneled with four giant steel beams. The panels have millions of puncture holes. These are simple pockets of diatomic Hydrogen gas, meant to ensure gravitational stability within the frame. There are two doors, one in and one out. He pushes the button for entry. He submits his voice code, retina scan, and thumbprint. The computer still recognizes him as human.

The guard gives him a passkey to the Temple of the Elders and tells Jordan he is expected. As he climbs the temple steps, Jordan turns to look at the colony. He sees people hustling around through the windows of their homes, much like Jordan’s vision of the cities on Earth. He understands that humans are a creature of habit and these habits flow through the genetics of the species. He pictures rats running into walls, bumping containers of food and bubbles in water bottles moving to occupy space at the top. He turns and approaches the first door to the temple.

No citizen has seen any of the Elders in over 37 years. The Elders do not associate with the citizens and the citizens have no direct contact with the Elders. The temple was built when the colony was built and the first generation that dwelled amongst the Elders has already passed on, leaving them a perfect and concrete mystery. Only Jordan’s mother remembers and she is insane by the standards of any age, bombarded with constant mood altering chemicals from an altercation she had with the elders when Jordan was little.

The passkey opens the door and Jordan steps inside. He puts his voice, eyes, and thumbs to the inner doors and is allowed access into the holy of holies. The temple is rather plain. There are paintings hanging on the walls of the hallway Jordan walks down. He sees landscapes unknown to the colony’s eyes. He sees people and scenes that are as foreign as the voice on the other side of the wall in the depot. The depot seems like a thousand parsecs from this moment.

As he approaches the end of the hallway, a door slides open, revealing an oval table with seven humans; calcium-white forms seated and looking at him. A man with white hair and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache motions for him to sit down. The rest of them are bald like Jordan. He has never seen hair on a human being and Jordan’s eyes grow large and shrink again. He is amazed at the depth it gives the human body.

Jordan speaks first and the members of the council stare at him without reaction, “Why have you sent for me? Who are you? Why do you isolate yourselves in this temple? What is the meaning of the heart? How did my father die…”

He is cut off in mid-sentence by the white-haired man, “Jordan, we know you have many questions and they will all be answered—to the best of our knowledge. There are things you must understand, and they all link back to the heart you have consumed. That heart is a part of you now, which means you are a part of us and we are a part of you.”

“I don’t understand. I just…”

The man cuts him off again, “Boy, you will understand, but you must be silent and allow us to speak. No one here wishes any harm to come to you. And if the heart has worked its miracle, I assume that all fear has left you.”

Jordan thinks for a moment, “Yes, I no longer fear the elements, or not turning in my assignments on time, or displeasing my mother. I am only agitated by a mystery of identity.”

“As are we boy. As are we. But first we must tell you what we know. Do you agree to listen?”

Jordan says, “Of course. Please continue.”

The men are wearing suits of Lycra spandex. The suits are the same colors, gray and beige. Jordan focuses on the man as he begins to speak. The man with the white hair has a pronounced forehead. His clothes differ slightly in color from the others. His shirt has a streak of yellow running parallel to the beige stripe. They seem to be a group mind, the way they all focus on the person speaking.

The white-haired man says, “In order to understand what we are, we must begin with the history of the heart you now carry in your chest. This heart once belonged to an ancient being that arrived on the Earth about the same time the ancestors of humans were sliding out of primordial mud in the form of simple chains of amino acids. This alien fed on these amino acids and the protein gave it sustenance. The alien is immortal. We have no knowledge of its origin, but we suspect it was sometime around when the first quasars were formed in the Universe, some ten billion years ago. We do know the creature is approximately that old. We do not know how the creature came to this planet, what sort of transportation it used, or what thought process it operated within. But we do know that it fed.”

Jordan cuts in, “How do you know what it fed on and how old it is?”

The man nods his head, “After we are done, you will understand that we just know some things to be true without empirical evidence.”

The man continues, “This alien fed on the creatures of the ocean and when the creatures of the ocean crawled onto land, it fed on the land. It fed on our reptilian ancestors. It consumed the giant lizards, although it was not much bigger than the human frame we all occupy now. When mammalians made their rise after the Chixclub meteor struck the Earth; the creature fed on mammals.

“We know it became fascinated with the blossoming human species. Here was a species that, for the most part, refrained from eating its own kind. It banded together in tribes. They buried their dead and grieved for lost family members. The creature observed this all with great interest, and the creature eventually consumed the heart of man as its only meal.

“This creature is immortal. A more accurate statement would be that the heart of this creature is immortal. The body can be sloughed off, but the heart and the spirit of this creature’s hunger cannot die in the sense that mortals understand what death is. Every person at this table is immortal,” he gestures to the members of the council and points to Jordan, “and so are you, boy.”

Jordan leans back in the chair and crosses his arms. “So the heart I have consumed was originally the heart of an alien being, billions of years old, that fed on the protein in biological organisms?”

The man nods, “Yes, but the heart has physically changed. It’s the spirit in the blood of the heart that is immortal. This spirit is subtle matter and you will not find it on the operating table. It’s an invisible channel of nature that is ever flowing and cannot be closed by any known means.”

“How many owners has the heart had before me?”

“Unknown. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, boy. Allow me to finish.”

Jordan uncrosses his arms, and leans forward against the table with his palms face down on its surface. The man continues, “This alien was also being watched by humans. As a group, they approached and subdued it. Several members attacked it and mortally wounded the flesh of the body. One human; one man, cut out the heart and ate it raw. This man was your direct ancestor Jordan, both genetically and through the spirit in the heart itself. We have spoken of the spirit and the genetics will become clear through time.

“The introduction of alien blood into human culture initiated an age of tribalism unlike any in previous human history. With the ingestion of the alien’s blood, mankind was opened to awareness of the movement of the stars and planets. In essence, they became self-aware through logic and rational thought. Rational thought was something that the human brain was capable of, but never achieved before the introduction of the alien spirit. It was a wave of revolution. The genetics of the human brain changed immensely. Everyday objects were now connoted to symbols that had been fashioned in the mind. This symbolism lead to the first writings on cave walls and eventually to written language itself.

“I can’t express to you the importance of language in the evolution of the human species. Words that were symbols could now be preserved and communicated far beyond a normal human lifetime. Knowledge of experience became a separate organism from the individual brain. These symbols eventually formed systems of government and religious institutions.

“Religion is a constellation of metaphors that are symbolic of a given society at a given point of history. Out of the countless religions, an idea eventually came about of an omnipotent creator of the Universe. We are not aware of when this belief of something greater became a central element in human thought, but we are positive that it had something to do with the alien’s spirit being infused into man. We believe that the a posteriori knowledge of this creature infused itself into the psychological symbology of the human species.”

Jordan stops the man, “So, are you saying that this alien believed in a higher being even though it was immortal?”

“I am saying something far more radical, Jordan. We believe this alien might have been directly connected with a higher being and had been since its inception into the Universe. Our knowledge of this alien is completely vague. We know it existed. We know it fed. We know that the heart of this being was consumed by ancient human beings and that the alien blood led to a revolution in the mind of man.”

Jordan shakes his head, “I don’t understand. If there was only one heart, then how are all of you immortal as well?”

“That’s the best part boy. The alien was pregnant when it was murdered. We don’t know the gestation period of its offspring, if it reproduced asexually, or through coitus. But we do know that it had children and we are the proof of it.” The man gestures to everyone sitting around the table.

Jordan looks at the floor for a few seconds and then back to the men, “Each of you carries the heart of the offspring?”

The council nods. Jordan continues, “Then why wouldn’t you also have a knowledge of such a being if you are this creature’s direct spawn?”

“We are the original tribe who cut the hearts out of the young and consumed them after being roasted on a flaming spike. The barrier of progeny is great, but that combined with the barrier between species is impossible to breach and gain such a lost knowledge.”

Jordan asks, “Can you die?”

“We can. And so can you.”

Jordan says, “How can we die? I thought we were immortal?” The thought of death is intriguing to him now that immortality has been Jordan’s life for the last two and a half weeks.

The man places his bone-white palms on the table and glares intently at Jordan. “You’ve been brought here to explain the end to us.”

Jordan senses a hint of fear in the man’s voice, “What do you mean ‘end’? The man who brought the heart to me said there was a mystery that needed to be solved. Of what did he speak?”

The man says, “Our Universe is closing in on us, Jordan. It’s been noticeable for sixty years now. It’s unexplainable to our understanding of the nature of time, space, matter and energy. But it is completely undeniable fact that the size of the Universe has been decreasing at an exponential rate and very soon there will be nothing left.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do we. That’s why we’ve brought the heart to you my boy. We were hoping that maybe you could tell us.”

“I have no knowledge of that which you speak,” Jordan responds.

“That is why you must understand the history of the heart and how it passed to your father, how the war on Earth commenced, and how you were born to this colony. Jordan, the file we are about to give you contains things that no human being has ever read, nor even imagined existed. We know the history of our civilization well, for we created and shaped it. We do not give you this file to be judged because we are beyond morality. Morals are a human limitation that we’re not plagued by. We give you this file in hopes that it will shed some light on what is happening to our Universe and if it’s reversible.”

The white-haired Elder slides a computer chip to Jordan and motions to the laptop at the far end of the table with his index finger. Jordan notices the man’s untrimmed fingernails. They are claws on a human being, shaped by time.

The man closes the conversation, “We’ll leave you to your reading. You have three days. We will speak then. Pay attention to detail, boy. And for humanity’s sake, record any vision or dream you have!”

The Elders file languidly out of the room and the door slides shut with a high hiss. Jordan puts the chip in the computer and begins to read.

© 1998 by Joshua Minton

I just finished a nice round of 18 holes at Sawgrass with my new boy from the city of Coca-Cola, depalmm (Gamertag). The connection got a little choppy at points but it went pretty smooth the whole time.

It's a strange phenomenon, just picking up a controller and plugging into someone else's living room--because you're connected by the bond of video games, it's okay to geek out and talk tech because there's a good chance that the guy (or girl) is a total tech-head also.

And then there's the tips you'll pick up. Gamers on XBox Live seem only too happy to share their knowledge and experience openly with each other and this is a great thing for gaming, all around.

One thing though, depalmm was telling me that he was playing a round of golf online with another gamer who was having a bad game and just quit after four holes. Okay, but this counted against depalmm as a game that he quit early. That's BS because it's a forfeit and he should get credit for a full 18 hole victory. I think I'm going to e-mail Major Nelson about this...

Jesus, it’s her, he thought, it’s really her and she’s here. Has she made it to the basement yet? God, I hope not. I really…

“Well, well, well,” his wife said, “I had a feeling you’d be home soon. I was just about to make myself useful until you got back.” She held up the garden spade from the garage, the one used to scoop dog crap in the back yard. She said, “we got work to do.” She pulled a gun from behind her, no doubt held in the elastic waistband of the sweat pants she had reclaimed after escaping from prison earlier that day. She pointed the gun at him and waved him toward the back of the house. “Let’s go,” she said.

He cleared his throat and found the words coming out rough like they had hooks and claws. “Jane, Jesus, what the hell are you doing here? How did you get out? Does anyone know you’re here?”

She jabbed the snub nose .38 into his lower front ribs as he was standing to his feet. He had a height advantage of a good six inches on her and she wasn’t about to let him use it against her. “It’s a long story, Dick—not your concern. And no one but you knows I’m here, sweetie.” The last word actually sounded sincere until her mouth went jagged at the corners like a rabid clown. “To the basement, joy boy. You’re gonna show em all what we did. I’m not going down alone.”

She’s actually serious. She’s going to make me do this. I’ve got to get that gun. I’ll just shoot her in the knee and call the cops and let them deal with her. There’s no way I’m going down in that basement. I haven’t been down there since…

“Did you actually think I was gonna let you get away with this, Dick?” Her voice broke his train of thought. “Ever since I got in that little cell I been planning this, seeing it in my dreams, tasting it in that god awful gruel they serve up. I read it in the fat flesh of the other girls in the shower. You’re gonna clear this whole thing up right now.”

He was walking slow and looking for a weapon to use against her. There was nothing. He cleared the walls of all her Home Interiors décor shortly after her sentencing. Anything he could do to forget her and what she knew was what he did, and now he suffered for it. They had reached the basement door. The gun barrel was pressing hard against the lower ribs of his back now. There was nothing he could think of to do. He was going into the basement.

“They’re gonna know what you did to that little bitch. They’re gonna know and you’re the one goin down Dickie boy, you not me.” Each step echoed and threatened to make him scream. He wished the steps never ended, never stopped short of the loose dirt floor in the dank basement of this decades old house he had inherited from a well-off uncle. His house—and each man cleans his own house eventually, he thought, an adage from the same uncle who died ten years ago from pancreatic cancer. He bled from his asshole the last two weeks of life. “At least it goes in clean,” his uncle had said. He was dead two days later.

“Jesus, Jane, can’t we talk about this?”

“No, keep moving. Turn on the light. You do remember where the light is, don’t you Dick? It’s right next to the shelf. Right over…”

“I know where the god damn light is, Jane. I’m asking you one more time, please don’t make me do this.”

“Shut up and turn the fucking light on before I shoot you and bury you right next to her.”

He did as he was told. He picked up the spade she had just thrown to the ground, wishing he had it only moments ago. He looked at it. “Why didn’t you get the shovel?”

“Because you loaned it to Tom the asshole down the street last June. Shut up and dig.”

He stumped the spade in the dirt floor and the epidermal layer of basement crust floured over his fisted hand. Next he hit clay which came out in tumbling clusters, staining his thumb and first finger a faded red. Finally the tip of the spade touched cloth and he backed away as if in revulsion. He felt the gun tip cool against his neck.

“Get it out. Don’t go soft on me now, Dickie boy.”

He used the spade to dig the clothed package out of the ground like he was unearthing a fossil, some frightening and dreadful creature of the past. He pulled out the cloth and something dropped to the ground with a sound like a heavy spoon in a bowl of uncooked oatmeal. He backed away like a leprous finger just touched him. She laughed, cackled actually.

“What’s the matter, Dick? It’s just her arm bone. The tibia, isn’t it? You the doctor should know.”

She kicked the bone at him. “Jesus, it’s not gonna bite you, calm down. You must have seen hundreds of these in medical school.”

He found his voice, “Yeah, Jane but none of them were my ex-girlfriend. None of them were the mother of my daughter. None of them…”

“I’m the mother of that little girl and don’t you forget it. I’m doing this for her sake, not for me or you.”

She put the gun to his forehead. “Take the rest of these bones upstairs and call the cops. Tell em you did it. Tell em you slit her throat, took out the baby and cut her into little pieces. Tell em you took those pieces and boiled them in a stew pot during your weekly fishing trip in Canada and that you brought the bones back here to bury them in your own basement. Tell em you did it because you were so heartsick from cheating on your wife, that you couldn’t bear it. So you killed her and were going to leave the baby on the doorstep of the county hospital. You tell em that and I’ll let you live. I’ll take Kaylee, find a place in town, a quiet place, and when nightfall comes I’ll be gone from your life forever. Where is she anyway?”

“She’s at a party,” he says.

A whistle sound punctures the tension and Jane looks up to the door. He sees his chance. He grabs the arm bone she kicked at him and jumps at her from a crouching position. The force is enough to knock her off balance, affecting her aim. The shot blows wood off the rafters above their heads and there are creaks from above, but neither of them hears anything but the music of the scuffle. The arm bone fractures her skull and the gun breaks his wrist with equal sound effects. One came before the other but neither he nor she knows the sequence. He now has control of the gun and is shooting, shooting to silence her, shooting to forget her, shooting to forget the shots themselves. If life is a series of sound bytes, his is a looping reel that ends in gunshots. He is swinging his arms, kicking his legs, moving his mouth. The reel plays over and over until a breaking sound silences the noise and the basement fades to black.

“Daddy?”

“Mr. Martin? Oh, my God. Dial 911 Kaylee, dial it and give me the phone. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“Yes, officer, I was bringing Kaylee back home from my son’s birthday party. The door was unlocked and there was a kettle boiling on the stove. I was calling his name when I heard the shots. They sounded muffled, so I knew they were from the basement. I saw the light go out as I opened the door. I think he broke the bulb. Jesus, who’s gonna take care of that little girl? Is he going to be okay? He’s going to jail isn’t he? I don’t know what happened. I ran upstairs to find the flashlight and by the time I got down there both of them were unconscious. Well, he was unconscious. She was, she was…Jesus, oh Lord Jesus. I used to play bridge with them. I used to…my son stayed the night here. Oh, God.”

“Oh, God.”

“Oh, God.”

If you are like me, the first time you looked at the acronym RSS, your eyes glazed over in a technical coma. But relax because RSS is not only pretty cool, it can be a major asset in your goal of developing a successful Ego Brand. There is a raging controversy over what RSS actually stands for but for our purposes we’ll use the common definition of Real Simple Syndication.

RSS is a direct pipeline between you and your readers. Do you remember the old-timey telephone systems they used to have where everyone had a direct line into their home and a telephone operator had to patch the lines together? Well, think of RSS like an old-timey telephone system only on the Internet and without an operator. Here’s how it works:

1. You develop/create your own website or blog
   
2. You create a(n) RSS feed(s)
   
3. You continually create and post content to your website
   
4. You update your RSS feed(s) to reflect your updated content
   
5. Your audience subscribes to your feed(s)

Every time your RSS feed is updated, your subscribers know immediately! They don’t have to click anything (assuming you post full text) because it’s right in front of them.

Now, this is a really simple overview but you get the picture. The first thing you need to do is to develop your marketing position as well as produced a product that people are willing to give their attention to. You will also have had to develop your website to be able to store your work. Then you need to create your RSS feed and keep it updated as you post new content. Your RSS feed is like a large radio tower constantly announcing your products and information to anyone who takes the time to listen and people will listen if what you say in interesting, controversial and helps improve their lives in some fundamental way.

Okay, now before you think I’m selling you a second coming here—there are some possible barriers you need to know about. First of all, you have to download or use a web-based RSS Aggregator in order to receive RSS feeds. These Aggregators are usually free although some do cost money. The ones that are fee-based usually offer additional features that are worth the money. For example, NewsGator offers a free web-based aggregator where you log on and read your RSS feeds but they also offer several paid plan, which I use because they have a fantastic module that interfaces with Microsoft Outlook. I use Outlook to manage my many e-mail accounts as well so it is very convenient for me and worth the $19.95 annual fee. I recommend trying a free aggregator first to determine your needs and then upgrade if you feel necessary. Try one of these:

• Yahoo
  
• Bloglines
  
• Newsgator
  

The second thing you need to know is that RSS files have to be created using XML coding language. You can either hand-code the file yourself by learning the basic structure or there are programs you can buy or download as freeware that will do it for you. I’ve tried hand-coding and freeware and have found success with both. The good news, if you use blogging software like that offered by www.blogspot.com, is that the RSS feed is created for you automatically.

For example, the feed for my blog is: http://boyswearpants.powerblogs.com/content_rss.xml
If you put the first feed into your news aggregator you will be subscribed to my blog and any time I post a new blog your aggregator will pick it up and notify you either with a title link or the full text with title link. If you put the second link into your aggregator, you would be notified of any new article, poetry, fiction, press release or newsletter that I publish to my site.

There are even photo sites like Flickr that allows you to publish your photos with an RSS feed. Imagine long-distance family notified immediately whenever you post new pictures and you don’t even have to send out an e-mail invitation or worry about passwords, putting people on your safe list, etc.

The biggest problem with RSS at this point is that it is a relatively new medium and people loathe moving outside their comfort zone. But keep in mind that e-mail was also a new medium at one point. Getting RSS on your site and using it to advertise your updated content is like buying Microsoft stock in the late 1970s. Combining RSS Ego Brand marketing with e-Mail newsletter marketing is like having IBM stock from the 1940s and Microsoft stock from the 1970s—you really can’t lose (providing your product is good enough).

But How Do I Write My RSS Feed?
If you have any inclination toward coding or know HTML yourself, you should try hand-coding your feed so you know exactly what goes into making it work. Hereis a great resource to creating your own feed:

A great free alternative to hand-coding the RSS feed yourself is to download a free program that will allow you to do this through a Graphic User Interface (where you can type information into text boxes).

Here is link to a great product called RSS Builder that I have used myself. There are other programs that will manage your RSS feeds but these cost money (usually a monthly fee) and I want to drill the phrase “Keep it small and keep it all” in your head because when you are first starting out building your Ego Brand, you are most likely doing it on a shoestring and need to keep the costs down. This means taking some of the leverage on your shoulders and learning to do some things by yourself. Believe me, it’s worth taking a few days to master the RSS medium—the time spent gaining such knowledge could skyrocket your ability to market yourself and your writing beyond anything you could possibly imagine.

Ping It!
One habit you’ll want to develop right off the bat is pinging the search engines every time you post a blog or update content on your website. You do that by going to this website. Enter you blog name, the URL and click all the boxes. You will be given the option to bookmark the page which will make very easy to ping after every update. Pinging after each update will ensure that you maximize your RSS marketing efforts.
 
So, Why Should I Start Using RSS?
Your life will never be the same. I’m sure you’ve heard of Tivo before—it’s a hard drive for your cable box that actually records television for you and stores it so you can watch your programs on your time. Well, using an RSS Aggregator is similar to a Tivo for the Internet. You subscribe to any RSS feed that you’re interested in and start reading updates on your Aggregator. On Newsgator you can set the frequency with which the Aggregator scans your feeds and alerts you which have posted new content. And you read the feeds and click on any links that interest you. That’s it. Just like Tivo lets you cut out the commercials, RSS allows you to get “just the facts, Ma’am” or, more accurately, just the content. As for now, RSS advertising hasn’t quite caught on (which is why many online product marketers are reticent to adopt the technology). Keep in mind that our primary goal is to get people addicted to our content and our character and there is no better way of doing this than getting an RSS pipeline right into their RSS Aggregator. In other words, this is a great opportunity for anyone who is interested in marketing information products on the Internet.
I no longer waste time shuffling through my favorites folder in Internet Explorer—I just fire up my Aggregator and plow through the headlines. I hit the Blog button and pass on any interesting links to my blog audience, which is then pumped out through my blog RSS feed to all my subscribers—it’s a wonderful cycle of information sharing and you too can become a part of it. So, what are you waiting for?

As a final note on RSS, please check out the e-book Unleash the Marketing & Publishing Power of RSS by Rok Hrastnick. The book costs $49.95 but you’ll get access to a private RSS feed that will give you updates on the technology as well as audio interviews with masters, etc. This book is a plethora of knowledge on the subject of RSS technology and how to use it to market your products to their full potential. You can get this book here.

Good luck and get online and get your RSS feeds fired up!

I've been working diligently this week to transfer the other blog I own and operate over to the PowerBlogs platform from a free Blogger hosting platform.

I did this for a few reasons, mainly because I don't trust anything you get for free and I think that very soon an iron curtain is going to rain down upon the blogosphere by the money grubbing corporate douches who have been offering free blogging in order to create a market where advertising can be inserted at the will of the google corporation without regards to the writers and originators of the blogs (in other words, the people actually doing the work).

And I don't want to be stuck in East Berlin when it happens.


The Family Bliss Blog is co-written with my wife and is focused on parenting, marriage, and trying to survive as a nuclear family in a crazy world. You will find no profanity or off-color references because that's what this blog is for.

So, you can now find our Family Bliss Blog at http://familyblissblog.com. You can sign up for e-mail updates, subscribe to our RSS feeds, or just stop in daily to find out what stupid shit I've done lately to piss off my wife and wreck my son's chance at a balanced lifestyle.

But seriously, we're making history over there, or at least decent conversation--that's where the more personal stuff is going to be on display for the world to see.

I usually don't bother debating religion online because I've never quite had the stomach to slice and dice the intracacies of historical canons versus the history that formed them.

I'm not a patient man and I leave that type of arguing to individuals far more capable like the expertise of my friend Antimedia.

And the other day, when I posted this comment in Alexandra's open post about whether the concept of the Holy Trinity actually qualified as monotheism, something in my mind told me that the comment would fly under the radar of the entire forum because it wasn't long enough, didn't contain specific points that could be rejected, refuted, or agreed upon by other commentors.

This is because I have spent the last ten years developing a spiritual philosophy that can be stated in a short paragraph and would serve to end all debate on the subject of religion.

It's a silver bullet and no one I have ever met has been able to get beyond it. I have titled this philosophy Living Between the Points and I have presented it Philosophy PhDs, laymen, religious experts, and even a Catholic Archbishop. It has been either ignored, met with placant head nodding, outright refuted, or met with complete silence.

In other words, there are no discussions because I refuse to dissect and invest time in the finer points of history and the evolution of sacred texts. Instead, I sought to develop a way to draw a frame around the human conception of divinity itself, draw attention to the ultimate limitations, and call the mind to silent meditation of the absolute uknoweable truth--the still point.

This is the point of meditation which Krishnamurti taught about and it is something so individualized that it can't be bought, sold, or even talked about.

Joseph Campbell was fond of quoting his mentor Heinrich Zimmer who once said:

The best things can't be talked about (because they are beyond the experience or conception of the mind of man). The second best things are misunderstood and worshipped as facts because they are references to the best things. The third best things are what we all talk about.

My goal was to assimilate a view of the human religious experience that would end all debate and questioning (except for the ultimate mystery itself) and leave the individual in sublime silence of the majesty of transcendence as experienced in the waking moment.

...and I believe this is the only thing that Jesus and Buddha taught despite the religious foolishness and death that sprung from their words.

Bilbo Anderson believes his life truly began the day after his sister’s wedding, where he knocked a bridesmaid unconscious and overturned the wedding party table as Old Time Rock’n Roll played in the background. Today those thoughts are far away from him as he hangs by a coat sleeve from the second story gutter of his red and white suburban home. It was her eyes, her goddamn…her god blessed eyes that did it. While on the roof fixing the position of the digital satellite dish, he saw the Virgin Mary in the upstairs window of the house across the street.

Bilbo’s wife, the woman he knocked over at his sister’s wedding, was at the grocery store picking up a few things. Whenever this line came out, Bilbo’s checkbook lost a few digits. She would call him from the car phone and say, “Honey, I’ll be home in a couple minutes. Can you help me with the groceries?”

She’d swart in minutes afterwards with her arms filled with paper and plastic bags. They got paper because Bilbo’s wife was convinced they’d begin recycling. Bilbo’s response to this was always, “Whenever they make it cheaper to recycle than not to, I’ll make the effort.” This was a biweekly conversation.

And now, as he hangs from the roof, he wishes he had recycled these past years and the horrible thought strikes him that the Virgin Mary’s appearance was a sign for him to recycle. If so, then his fall might be the result of subconscious guilt and this was just karma coming around. He groans and looks to the hilt of the street, praying for his wife to return with her bags of groceries and that she got all paper bags this time. He closes his eyes. I will never throw away another can in my life.

“Bill, what the hell you doin up there,” his next door neighbor asked from the ground.

“Glen, Jesus Christ, Glen, get me down from here. I was, I was, and I fell, and I’ve just been, just get me down, Glen.”

His voice was hoarse. I’ll cancel every channel except that one with that guy that always talks about God, the asshole, I mean the preacher in the expensive suits who runs that church up north with the compound and the school and the car dealership, I wonder if they give special rates to church members?

“Jesus, Bill, what the hell were you doin up here?” Glen was pulling him back onto the roof.

“I was trying to fix the god da..the fu…the stupid satellite, Glen.”

He was back on his feet and grabbed Glen’s gloved hand and shook it. “Thanks, Glen, I don’t know what could’ve, well, thanks you know.”

“No problem, Bill. Just call me next time you have roof work. Jesus.”

As he was climbing down the ladder, his wife pulled into the driveway. The car sputtered and clicked. He looked at her through the windshield. She was smiling. He was sweating. He walked around to the back and lifted the trunk lid after it popped. He saw a field of double handled plastic. He thundered to her card door, opened it, and with a gargling gravel voice said, “Where the hell’s the god damn paper sacks.”

©2000 Joshua Minton