Sunday, September 30, 2007

Glory in the Morning...

"There's a glory in the morning because the earth turns 'round and a promise in the evening when the sun goes down." -- Crazy Bird, around 1975

I've been puzzling for some while over something. In fact, it occurs to me almost every time I go for my morning walk around the neighborhood where I live in the Happy Little Kingdom here in the far north.

The play of the rising sun light in the clouds is often a most pleasant experience. Indeed, it is amazing the joy, awe and wonder a sunrise can bring.

Why is this?

I suppose many or even most aesthetic experiences are acquired tastes tinged by cultural bias. But I suspect that the pleasure of seeing the beautiful glory revealed in the sky is natural, universal, in fact arch typical.

My question is: why? Why are we, so to speak, "hardwired" to enjoy the sunrise?

I propose that it has to do with the spirituality innate in our common humanity. What I mean by spirituality is the feeling or grasping of meaning in this existence which at times can seem somewhat chaotic.

There is one effect, not rare yet not frequent either that strikes one as almost metaphysical in its effect. I am thinking of the situation where shafts of sunlight pierce the clouds in shafts of light and shadow, creating a sort of fan-like effect.

Until recently, these were the only straight lines one would ever see in the sky.

Today it is almost a daily experience, weather permitting, to see the condensation trails of high flying airplanes scratching their chalk marks across the blue.

I hardly know of any thing more ugly than the meaninglessness of their incongruity than these contrail graffiti defacing the sky.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Regarding the Name, Rexona...

Many incorrectly assume that the name "Rexona" means something like "king". The error lies in thinking that it was derived from the Latin rex. However, "Rexona" was, in fact, the name of a popular brand of deodorant soap sold in the Third Galaxy. The name therefore refers to something special about the nature of Ronald Rexona's amazing career.

Seeing that his poor world's energy resources were growing short, instead of using his country's enormous reserves of wealth, intelligence and creative energies to find viable ways to work their way out of the impending and inevitable crisis, Rexona initiated a series of endless wars of imperial hegemony -- and the people called him a "Peace Maker"!

Born with a silver spoon up his nose, this man who later called himself the "Decider", was a mediocre student who got into prestigious schools on the basis of his family name and connections. During the War to Save the Dominoes, connections, once again, got him one of the few slots for training as a jet pilot in the National Guard. He later failed to meet up for physicals because it would have revealed his use of hard narcotics -- and his connections, again, fixed this for him. The last year of his "service" he was, in effect AWOL.
All of this and much more was covered up and never allowed into the mainstream media. When Dan Blather, a major TV speaker tried to break the AWOL story, he was fired in disgrace. He was, in fact, "ratfucked" by Rexona's operatives (that is the word they themselves use for such a hit-job).

Later, when, through his connections, he was "selected" president by a corrupt court decision, he loved to be called Commander in chief, Decider and prance about in funny uniforms.

He failed at every business venture he ever undertook (and they were many!). His history was one long string of faulting on obligations to anyone who trusted him with money, power or simple trust. When a governor, he signed a record number of death warrants, laughing and sneering as he did so. He was the monster who, when giving the orders for the illegal and disastrous invasion and occupation of Wudda-Wrek, clapped his hands and giggled, "Boy, o boy! This sure feels good!"

No matter what the fellow did, no matter what deep doo-doo he got himself into, no matter how much he wallowed and rolled over in it, he always came out smelling like a fresh bouquet of roses -- and that is why "rexona" was the perfect name for him.

It is beyond understanding how this man of gibberish, this fountainhead of incompetence and incoherence became the absolute ruler of the greatest nation the Third Galaxy had ever known.

Within little more than decade after he held the reins of power, he transformed that land known as the Lady of Liberty and Enlightenment into a Fortress of Arrogance, a Madam in a Fat Car.

Monday, September 24, 2007

A Brackwater Security Incident

The scene: a plush office in the Dream Zone which is located in Bodybag, the capital of Wudda-Wrek. This is the only place where an free, Arrogant citizen can walk freely about and, for example, enjoy a McBarf burger without fear of a bullet or a piece of shrapnel flying through his lightly salted freedom-fries.

An aide rushes in:

We've got a problem, sir - it's Brackwater!

O boy, what have the cowboys done this time?

A Brackwater contingent forgot that the safeties were off on their firearms when they were on escort duty...

The problem?

Well, sir, one of them sort of pointed his weapon in fun and, accidentally pulled the trigger.

Holy Idaho! They didn't shoot any of the people they were escorting, did they?

No sir, he was just "funning" some kids and their parents and when the one weapon went off the others joined in and they couldn't stop. They sprayed every thing that moved and some things that had stopped moving. When their magazines were empty, there really was much they could do except put in new clips so they could defend themselves and the people they were escorting...
O well, shit happens -- any casualties?

About 20 dead and a lot of wounded.

What? That would have wiped out a Brackwater contingent and then some! I thought you said that none of the diplomats had been harmed!

Civilians, sir, civilians.

You know we don't do body-counts! Get to the point, what is the problem?

The government has revoked Brackwater's license to operate in Wudda-Wrek! They are going to be kicked out of the country!

The government? They wouldn't do that!

Yessir, I heard Prime Minister Malarkey on the television myself!

Malarkey? He's only prime minister as long as we prop him up! I thought you meant the government! Hell, Brackwater hasn't had a license for the past year. and a half, so they can't revoke what they don't have. I still don't see the problem, nothing that we can't iron out again -- you do a press release, explain that they were attacked by Al Qube agents with weapons they had from Uran --

But sir, that is the problem, Malarkey has a video -- you can see how they just started shooting things up.

O. That's not so good...but, it really doesn't matter -- you just explain to the press that Al Qube was using weapons with silencers, or something -- and remember, they got them from Uran! Still, that video is a problem -- we'll just have to get the Secretary of State make apologies to Malarkey -- hmmn, she won't like it much, I'm sure, but she'll just have to bite the bullet -- we can't have Rexona getting his dander up! Brackwater is a big deep-pockets campaign donor, you know!

Sounds good, sir, but what about Brackwater? Malarkey says they must leave the Wudda-Wrek.

O, I'll take care of that, I'll just explain to him that if Brackwater was to leave the country, it would cause security in Bodybag to deteriorate.


Yes, deteriorate -- how could diplomats and congress people visit Bodybag, go to the bazaars and see how much the situation has improved since the Decider set his Great Plan in motion last year if they don't have people from Brackwater make sure nobody takes a potshot at them?

Right, sir!

Friday, September 21, 2007

The Boiling Point of Blood...

A couple of days ago, here in the Happy Little Kingdom, two guys decided to find out how awesome it would be to race their cars down a residential street.

At about 100 mph, one of the drivers lost control of his vehicle, hit a tree and, on a bounce, a 41 year old woman. The woman is now in the hospital fighting for her life, or what shatters of it will be left if she ever regains consciousness.

That's the kind of thing that makes your blood boil, especially if you eat the news the way the tabloid press serves it up.

My question is, at what temperature, exactly does your blood begin to boil?

For example, take these fellows who got themselves elected to the highest positions in the most powerful nation in the Third Galaxy. They promised "compassion", "morality", seeing "no child was left behind" and a bunch of other feel-good stuff. Then, as soon as they had the reins of power in their hands, they raced down the street to do things not even hinted at in what they had sworn to the public that elected them. They set secret plans in motion to secure the natural energy resources of that poor planet for themselves and their business cronies!

In six short years, they spent the lives of four thousand Arrogant soldiers, more than two dozen thousand wounded and maimed, not to mention a million and a half civilians dead in Wudda-Wreck -- and when I say, "not to mention", I mean not mentioned, at least in the approved media of the Bankers of Illusion.

Meanwhile, nearly a trillion dollars were squandered on providing the military with what it takes to make things go "boom!" and people go dead -- but not so much to give the wounded and maimed care, counsel and prosthetics for lost llimbs.

Does that start to make you blood heat up?

Consider now that they didn't even secure the energy resources, the oil and the gas which was the goal of their illegal, preemptive wars and occupations!

Does you blood nearer the boiling point?

Their prime objective at the moment is to engage in yet other wars. They are gamblers on a losing streak who simply double the stakes in the hope of winning it all back -- and the stakes are warm bodies, cold cash and the future of our children!

Worst of all, consider that, if but a tenth of these resources had been spent on research to develop viable energy resources, it would have saved our poor world from the tragedies of war, famine, pestilence and death soon to enfold our poor world with dark, leather wings!

If your blood isn't steaming and bubbling now, you must be extremely anemic or just plain dead!

Monday, September 17, 2007

Support the Troops - Send them Back to the War Zones!

Senator Jim Webb has a bill in Congress which would require that troops deployed in Iraq get as much time as they have spent in combat to recuperate at home and retrain before doing a second tour in a War Zone.

It would seem like a reasonable, doable idea and one that would be hard to argue against.

You can't say, "Support our troops and send them back to Iraq to get shot at!" -- can you? Well, in the up is down, progress goes backwards world of today's Washington, perhaps you can!

The Secretary of Defense -- I know that is a strange title for a job that entails little more than preemptive, illegal wars of aggression and occupation, but hey, not every thing is snarkable -- the Secretary of Defense, Robert Gates, came out with the big guns and said he would recommend that the Codpiece veto the bill because, "...we would have force management problems that would be extremely difficult and, in fact, affect combat effectiveness and perhaps pose greater risk to our troops..."

Indeed, who knows what kind of bad things could happen to our soldiers here at home? I shudder at the thought! Shudder, I tell you!

It is, of course true, that the Department of Defense has a management problem, however, which I suppose is why Mr. Gates brought it up. The DoD, with its 480 billion plus dollar budget has once again failed its external audit -- as a matter of fact, the DoD has yet to pass the external audit since this was required by law ten years ago,

What that means, is, the DoD doesn't really know what it does with all that money. Yep, and the tiny Department of Homeland Security, with its budget of only 38 billion has never passed an audit since the creature was created. I hope this makes you feel as safe as it makes me feel!

By the way, do you remember that, when Sen. Webb was to the dinner reception for new members of Congress, the Codpiece went out of his sway to buttonhole Webb and repeatedly asked him "how your son is doing?" knowing full well that Webb's son, a Marine, was in combat in Iraq.

What a fine man of character the Decider is!

Friday, September 14, 2007

Waiting for Monstrous Monday...

After completing the Arrogant Prophecies of the Third Galaxy and capping it off with a theme on Terrible Tuesday, I thought I would continue with a piece about Monstrous Monday. This is the day which marked the final transition of the Lady of Liberty and Light to the State of Arrogance which later culminated in the ascension of Ronald Rexona as Supreme Hole.

But, I find it difficult to continue.

I find myself more and more confused as to whether I am writing about the Third Galaxy or about our own happy world. Am I losing my mind, or are the two parallel worlds, in some awful way, melding together because of some sort of rupture in time and space?

Let's take a look at recent events.

Yesterday, Bush -- I'm too depressed to snark "Codpiece" and refuse to connect his name with "President" -- announced that the US military would remain in Iraq for a long time, in much the same way that they have been stationed in South Korea, Japan and Germany. What made me feel the slip of a time or spatial warp is that this "news" came as a "surprise"!

Even the lowest ranking town idiot knows that the only "reconstruction" in Iraq going after plan is the building of the largest US "Embassy" in Baghdad -- billions are being poured into this Palace of the New Regime. The major US military bases in Iraq are built and intended to be permanent.

But why the surprise?(!) It is common knowledge that control of the region is the first phase of the plan outlined for world hegemony in the Project for the New Arrogant Century -- a plan which only needed a "Pearl Harbor" class event to set it in motion. That such an event occurred only 9 months into the misrule of the Bush administration can only mean that the plan had the Blessing of the Spud Himself!

Last week, Hamas, sent a rocket into a boot camp for Israeli draftees. There were a number of casualties, some of them serious. For some reason, the Israeli response has been mild -- that is to say, they haven't bombed the shit out of any refugee camps. Why? It may be because a few days before, on September 6, the Israeli Air Force made an incursion into Syria, did "something" which left a hole in the ground and jettisoned fuel tanks which landed in Turkey (this is the only reason we know about this -- Syrian protests to the European Union were muffled)

This week, General Petraeus (aka Gen. Betrayus) moved his dog and pony show to Washington where he was able to lie before Congress that the "surge" was going hunkey-dory, ping-a-ling in Iraq. O. My. God. Did I say "lie" -- well, who's to know? The Perfect Soldier With Medals on His Chest was, pointedly, not sworn in! That means he could tell Congress the Moon was made of Green Cheese and not be held accountable if caught out. As a matter of fact, a fellow was thrown out of Congress for saying out loud, "Swear him in!"

But what the heck, who can't trust a soldier with such a recomendation such as he got from his commanding officer, "[your're ] an ass-kissing little chickenshit"

Finally, when Bu$h was in Iraq, not Baghdad, mind you, but a heavily fortified military base in the desert somewhere in the Anbar province, in the six hours he was there finding out how swell things were going and how, as he told the Prime Minister of Iraq, we are "kicking ass" there -- the Codpiece had time to have a photo-op with a major Shaych named Abu Risa. This is the fellow who, accepting the bribes of millions of dollars coupled with modern weapons, was ensuring that the Sunnis in Anbar were turning on "Al Qaeda". I put that in quotes, because it was really Iraqi Salifi Jihadis they were putting down -- Salifis are murdering assholes, to be sure, but "Al Qaeda" they ain't.

ANYWAY, you know of course that Abu Risa was snuffed yesterday. The two questions are, who did it and who will get the blame. "Al Qaeda" will of course get the blame, because they wanted to silence this Noble Voice for Freedom and Democracy. Who did it is most likely other tribal members who were mad because Abu Risa was skimming most of the millions for himself and not cutting others in on the take.
So, now, perhaps, you understand why I am confused -- am I here, or am I in the Third Galaxy?

Is there really any difference?

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Terrible Tuesday x 6 + ? = !

Well, well, well, here we are, it's the sixth anniversary of Terrible Tuesday, which happens to fall on a Tuesday because of the leap year.

What can one say? In a sense, I'd rather not say anything -- but cannot be silent.

What I will say is what I said in the days immediately after that Terrible Tuesday, when I could see that the Lady of Liberty and Light was starting down a dark path which will mutate her into a Fortress of Arrogance.

It is true, there had always been a split in her persona -- the vision of a society of and by the people with liberty and justice for all was at the best of times only partially realized -- and then only for some. But when has any human vision been truly realized? None that I know of and that includes those of the Idaho and the Masher as well as the meanest of us who may only desire a little peace and quiet.

The warnings of the Founding Fathers have tended to fall on deaf ears. The checks and balances wisely forged into the Groundlaw have been under attack from the very beginning by people and forces who want only the rich and privileged to have power and the people to be sheep whose only use is to follow until it is time for them to be fleeced or turned into cannon fodder.

It was said and continues to be said that Terrible Tuesday "changed everything". That is a lie -- nothing changed! It was "business as usual" -- with the stress on business!

Billions of public funds flowed into the coffers of private companies and even armies -- all in the name of Security as the hypocrisy was cranked up to ever higher hysteria.

But as the masks fell away, the rotting wooden splinters left tracks of blood on the Lady's face as she mutated into Madam Who Drives a Fat Car.

And then came Monstrous Monday.

Monday, September 10, 2007

Arrogant Prophecies - A Few Words on Hope...

I had not planned it -- there really isn't very much that I plan and the little I do plan seldom works out like I figured it would -- I had not planned it, but I note this final and concluding entry in the Arrogant Prophecies is being posted on the eve of the anniversary of Terrible Tuesday.

It may be fitting or not that it is so, but I give you, straight from the heart of the unknown poet to you, my friends, a "Few words on hope":

Spudmas is the story and legend of how hope is born, bringing light to the darkest hour. More specifically, in the religion of the Peelers, it celebrates the sprouting of the Idaho, and, if you believe the calendar (which you ought not) it has been celebrated more than two thousand times.

According to some guy who lucked out and got a couple of his letters canonised, his belief in the Idaho rested on "hope, faith and love" but that, "...of these three, love is the greatest!" Since it is in the Book of the Idaho [1 Cornythings 13:13], most people will turn off their Spud-given brains, nod their heads, mumble, "How True! How True!" and go back to snoring.

I disagree.

I say that hope is the greatest. The essence of the ugly evil is to destroy hope. Furthermore, my reasoning is that, although hope , at first glance, may well seem to be the least of the three, it is the linchpin which holds the three together.

When, hope is gone, faith must fade. When hope is gone and faith has faded, love herself will surely die.

When hope is gone, there can only be despair, for "Despair all ye who enter here", is what is written in twisted iron letters capped with razor wire above the spiked gates of hell.

Faith-shattered can be restored. Love-betrayed can be reborn. But, when hope is gone, there is nothing – nothing at all…

Therefore, hope against hope even when there should be no room for hope at all.
A good friend of mine told me a story about a man, deathly ill, who maintained that he was going to survive through his prayer to Spud. He did live a year longer, in suffering, for himself, as well as his family. "What kind of hope is that?" asked my friend.

My answer is that it was perhaps not hope that was feeding his faith – it was a form of despair as pernicious as the cancer which ate away his brain. Faith which cannot accept that we must die and that our ultimate fate must rest in the Eternal is not "faith" – it is a desperate attempt to coerce Spud and has its roots in despair – not hope!

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Arrogant Prophecies - An Artless Hymn

The sources to which I have access to in the Absolute Truth of the Third Galaxy, 21st Edition all agree that the unknown poet maintained in any writings attributed to him that he composed this song/poem extemporaneously at three in the morning while working a night shift.

He claims that he closed a book he had been reading about Zain Buddyism and suddenly found himself dancing across the table tops singing this song. Afterwards, he scribbled down the words on a used manilla envelope.

It is a fact that this envelope can be seen in the national museum of the Third Galaxy. The words are there, scribbled in almost unreadable black ink on the back of the crumpled envelope. And that proves what? Well, it proves that the words are there, scribbled in black ink on a crumpled manilla envelope. Religions have been founded on less!
You are reality, beyond all belief!

You are the living-tree, nourishing my green leaf!

You are the highway, the footstep and the path!

You are the answer, with no questions asked!

You are the beauty, shining in each lover's face!

You are that certain place, beyond all time and space!

Smaller than an atom,
Bigger than a star,
Able to go slowly fast,
You stay quickly far!

You are, you are, you are, you are!

You are the holy rock, you are the distant shore!

You are every thing and so much, so much more!

You are life itself, and even death
pales before the majesty of your

-- emptiness!

Saturday, September 08, 2007

Arrogant Prophecies - Hearts of Glory

Although, yesterday's verse was the final in the series of poems composed of 16 lines of rhyming couplets, alternating tetra- and hexameter -- it is not by any means the end of the Arrogant Prophecies of the Third Galaxy!

In the composition of the unknown poet, two songs and a brief essay on hope were also included at the end. He himself referred to them as a "postludium". Besides that, I know for a fact from what I have already learned in my study of the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition, that he was responsible for much of the material from the transmitted to me from the Third Galaxy by Man-u-El Ishman -- that is, before he received employment and was sent on a secret mission to an undisclosed location. I hope to be able to include some of this material in a more complete version of the Arrogant Prophecies. Time will only tell if I have the time, energy -- and daring -- to undertake such a demanding project!

I will let "Hearts of Glory" sing for itself. However, one comment must not be omitted -- many sources attribute this song to Ichabod Rain, but the unknown poet makes no reference or gives no credit to him. Some commentators take this to mean that the unknown poet was, in fact, Ichabod Rain!

This is a tempting idea but, in fact, raises more questions than it answers. As we know, Ichabod Rain himself is considered to be a composite figure, a fabric of legend who, except for his name, has almost completely escaped history.

Whatever the facts of original authorship, "Hearts of Glory" is a powerful song of hope flashing out like a beam of light in that time of darkness when it looked like the Third Galaxy was headed for destruction and the long night and it is certainly well placed, here at the end of the this amazing work.

I dreamt a dream of ancient times
when hearts were filled with glory,
And everyone was living in
sweet simplicity.

I pray it's not a fable,
I pray that the day will come:
when, to live like this, in Eden's bliss,
will be reality.

I dreamt I saw an open door
within each human heart,
And I saw the bonds that keep us close
although we are apart.

I pray it's not a fable,
I pray that the day will come:
when the love that lives for everyone
shines through -- bright morning star!

I dreamt I heard tin silver bells
proudly pealing and ringing,
And these songs I heard, without any words,
were only angels singing.

I pray it's not a fable,
I pray that the day will come:
when every girl and boy will know the joy
that lives in everything

Friday, September 07, 2007

Arrogant Prophecies - Sweet William's Advice

And so we reach the end of our journey, with a strange verse which, if we didn't know that it had been composed by an unknown poet in the Third Galaxy, we might once again think that it was making references to William Blake with the lines about following a golden thread to find the New Jerusalem.

Why that would be almost as outrageously ridiculous as to think that "the other side of the mountain" was a reference to one of the final entries Thomas Merton made in his journal about a dream he had on his final journey to a conference in Bangkok where he was killed by a faulty electric fan in a freak accident which may well have even been an assassination!

Life comes and goes like a bubble.

The fact of the matter is, it's hardly worth the trouble
to even try to talk about it.

The time we spend trying to make square pegs fit
into round holes, we'd do better
trying to understand how to sever the fetters
keeping us in such sad bondage.

We must continue to struggle to gain understanding and knowledge
of that strong long-flowing stream!

Following clues in what we see -- in our visions and dreams,
we follow that "golden thread" to its source.

(No one can take the New Jerusalem by force.)

There's another side to the mountain, you know!

Following our own footsteps in the virgin snow,
never knowing what we know,

the answers are all around us where ever we ever go.

the answers are all around us where ever we ever go.

the answers are all around us where ever we ever go.

the answers are all around us where ever we ever go.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Arrogant Prophecies - A Bonfire Prayer

To understand the opening lines of this penultimate verse of the Arrogant Prophecies, the reader needs to know that in the Third Galaxy, a "baunehoy" is a hilltop from which a fire can be seen for a long distance. Bonfires were lit on these special hilltops in olden times to signal danger.

The unknown poet writes in his notes that on his way from a trip to NorthLand back to the Fields of Dan, he chanced to stop at one of the highest and most famous of these old "bonfire hills". He writes:

"Standing there, I suddenly saw -- well, saw is not quite the right word -- felt perhaps is better! I felt something like an emotional outpouring from our common humanity in response to things which we know are coming. It hit me so solidly that it nearly knocked my breath out. I had to grab the railing to keep from falling and managed to pray (beg really) that that this lovely land, where I have spent my adult life and where my children were born -- that this land would be spared the brunt of the storms to come."

"Are prayers like that answered? I wouldn't even hazard a guess!"

"But I do know that we are all in this together and that whatever our friend, the Holy Idaho accomplished, it is still conditional on what we do today. If there is such a thing as salvation it is not determined by any ritual, sacrament or a funny feeling running up and down your spine. When it all comes down to dust, all that matters is your relationship with and what you have done in the service of our common humanity."

Standing on the "Bavnehoy"
I prayed a prayer for the Fields of Dan and her girls and boys.

Standing there, I could see so far,
as far away as the Milky Way's distant stars!

It was far enough to make even fainter
souls need to puke and call upon their saints,
you know, the guys who muddle the calendars
with their ecstasies of red and golden paints...

We're always hoping someone will come
and kiss it where it hurts, make it better and suck our thumb...

You've gotta spit that out of your mouth!
All that bitter drink, that's not what it's all about!

We're all in this together, friends
and, friends don't you see, it's all together we
are headed for eternity,
and together we bring about the happy-end -- or not!

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Arrogant Prophecies - The Preposterous Creed

With today's installment of the Arrogant Prophecies, we are nearly at our journey's end.

Whether the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy succeeded in his attempt to "snatch the sweet flower hope from the thorns of despair" is up to each reader to decide. In any case, it cannot be denied that he gave it a try.

Having said that, I will once again let the unknown poet speak for himself:

"The difficulty I find in trying to find any words to throw light on this poem could mean that it actually is a poem -- or it could mean that it's just a brick of words! In any case, in composing it I tried to condense a lot of thought on certain matters close to my heart."

"That sweetness brings sorrow and sorrow sweetness are insights that, misunderstood, can lead to excesses of asceticism as well as hedonism -- but there is no benefit in seeking either the one or the other. Sweetness and sorrow come of themselves in the transitions between life's minor and major chords."

My cup, it keeps on filling up,
it's flowing over, so much I can hardly find my cup!

If I but once have felt the touch,
can I lie and say that Love doesn't matter much?

If my love is the love of Love,
does it come within, or from without, or from above?

Can anyone prove the claim that Love
remains, after the dirty water runs down the drain?

And what's the use of anything
without the sweetness only bitter sorrow brings?

All creation praises sing!
The Great Potato is Almighty Being!

And who's the judge of anything
without the bitter sorrow only sweetness brings?

All creation praises sing!
The Great Potato is Almighty Being!

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Arrogant Prophecies - The Last Temptation

I really don't know what to make of it, but the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy has a rather long and somewhat rambling commentary to today's installment of the Arrogant Prophecies.

These notes were taken directly from the third level footnotes the Absolute Truth, 21st Edition:
"The problem in writing about the "Holy Idaho" is that the very mention of his name makes many people turn off their brains. Either they stick their fingers in their ears or they sit there with a silly "saved" grin pasted on their face."

"The reason I've gone to the trouble all these years, using my meager talents and much of my time in composing these poems and songs, is to tickle people a bit so as they might open their minds -- that they pull down the shades and lock the door is a bummer!"

"If a few people understand that acquiring and cultivating an open mind is a necessity for anything resembling real peace -- that is likely the only reward I'll ever get for all my trouble and all those lonely nights I cried myself to sleep.

So, when I received this comment from a reader on exactly this poem: "Well, ring around the rosy. Grade school drivel, in both concept and execution.", well, it hurt a more than little bit!"

"On the other hand, perhaps I got that reaction exactly because I managed to tickle that particular reader!"

"I've come to realize that we often have negative reaction to creativity, perhaps because it embarrasses us. That's why most of us, and I certainly don't exclude myself, are likely to be out their in the crowd yelling, "Peel him, peel the Idaho!""

It almost made the Idaho choke
when he knew he'd have to really go for broke.

The ugly spoke and shewed him things
them stupid apes would do with gifts the Spirit brings:

"Shame and slime and painful death
will be touted as a kind of proof of holiness."

I've seen it happen many times
and so have you -- I know you're not completely blind."

(they say love is blind!)

"Never underestimate
the power garbage has to slyly imitate
things good and pure and clean,
replacing them with things dirty and obscene!"

The Idaho barely turned and said,
"You've never really understood the nature of the game."

"Return to your kingdoms-of-the-dead!
The tree I plant among the living, shall remain!"

Monday, September 03, 2007

Arrogant Prophecies - The Final Analysis

The theme of "a robber and a thief" occurs often in the work of the unknown poet of the Third Galaxy and refers to the two thieves peeled beside the Holy Idaho as the story of his Peeling is told in Look 23:39-43.

The view of the unknown poet is that two thieves represent two different ways of appreciating our common humanity. In particular, one should look at his "Ballad of a Robber and a Thief".

That said, the unknown poet reveals one again in his notes to this verse his intense distaste for what he calls "religious flimflam" which he "...abhor[s] with a purple passion". He continues:
"When it all comes down to dust, we all must go through that door into the long night with no one, alone and forsaken. If it were not so, then life itself would have no real meaning -- and life without meaning is hell. That is the grit of being spiritual. There is absolutely no way to separate the spiritual from the physical and it is a grave mistake to even try."

Speaking as a robber and a thief,
can anyone explain the sources of our belief?

These confused remains of memory,
are they some sort of help before eternity?

Do I have the right to anything
when I forget the simple source of human being?

Our ship has sprung a monstrous leak,
can we be sure she'll stay afloat another week?

What has done has not been hid.
To looks inside the can, you have to take off the lid.

It's a fact that less than just a few
can stand the sight of all that pure, tomato-juice!

So, blow your nose, wipe away the snot!
Johnny Wayne's brand of Calvary are not
agonna save you from your thrill.

That, dear friend, is the grit of being spiritual!...

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Arrogant Prophecies - A Modest Epiphany

I dislike trying to second-guess a writer, even less the unknown poet from the Third Galaxy, however, it is obvious that the image he uses here, "shovelfuls of burning sand", was taken from an essay penned by the rather pedantic Elmer Eggplant.

In his "Bubble Ships", Eggplant compares the Manifest Universe with a shovelful of burning sand which some fellow casts up into the air and, when it falls, just happens to form sand castles. In his rather pathetic analogy, Eggplant points out that, if you look closely, you see little windows in the sand castles with flickering lights and people looking out, some of them saying "Wow!".

The comment of the unknown poet is that, "If you would acquire the sort of understanding which the sages seek, you must have a balance, in fact a union between the intellect and the intuitive, between the feminine and the masculine, the dark and the light in your nature -- in brief, you must regain the knowledge of the little child, the ability to say "Wow!" – a moderate epiphany."
Such fountains of confusion come
from sources not quite so far away as some
would have you think. The power to-Be
is inherently implicit in eternity!

These shovelfuls of burning sand,
slung into the utter night with such careless hand!

Seemingly indifferent
to the consequence of interstellar accidents,
worlds like motes of sparkling dust,
are caught for a moment in bright sunbeams of light.

A pot of stew and the taste is just
confused -- it isn't wrong -- it just isn't right!

Then all of a sudden, with a pinch of thyme,
it comes together in rhymes, and rhymes in chimes of rhymes!

And all the time that ever was
is always there because it always was, eternal love.
"Motes of sparkling dust", as a child, confined to my bed with a childhood disease, the blinds were drawn and shafts of sunlight came through here and there and in those bright beams, the dust in the air glinted and fascinated me. I saw them as worlds, a parable of time and space.

Saturday, September 01, 2007

Arrogant Prophecies - the Mystery of Innocence

The unknown poet of the Third Galaxy continues with what theologic brain dead in our world would disregard as new-Gnostic drivel. However, had they the misfortune to have had to confront the existential crisis which befell that unfortunate world, their tune might well have been different.

The unknown poet, as was his wont, asked the Question in a roundabout way:

"How can one not be affected when learning how manifest universe unfolds from a singularity of cosmic gism? I make no plea for "creationism" or "intelligent design". What I say is, if we consider the manifest universe and the little we know about how it unfolded -- well, the only conclusion is that all the religions and their concepts of the "Great Potato" are, at best, poor approximations of the Reality of the Eternal."
The mystery of Innocence
is the way that truth unfolds with such consequence.

Somehow, the refined eloquence
of ages of sages mumbles to incompetence.

Before the sublime radiance
of reality, with apparent accidents
and interstellar incidents,
galaxies are strewn across the firmament...

Like grains of sand and other grit,
they simply sort of fall into their proper place...

And now, this hairless, apish itch
is wearing pants and flying into outer space...

"It's the silent hand of the Famous Ancient
Gambler, who's got it down to a science!"

"God don't gamble," grumbles Einstein.
Of course he does, but somehow he always make it "rhyne"...