Imperial Blog week ending 8 Blossom 4703

Whatever history may say was the primary event, and ignoring that of Saul Bellow, Grace Kelly's husband, and others, the demise of Karol Wojtyła, is the primary media event. Rapid embalming so the faithful millions can gawk at death with no offense to their senses, said to be the largest mass pilgrimage to date with crowds extending from St. Peters to the Tiber. In a related matter, the name of the new religion, viz.: "Religion" was determined.
An idea for a series of writeups occured to Us but was interdicted as a misuse of time and collapsed with all such into this journalism. (And yes, by it's very name, journals are in effect journalism, i.e. as opposed to history, sociology,etc.). The series would have been a set of supporting math results leading up to a proof of the unfairness/anti-democratic nature of the US Electoral System However in addition to being a poor use of time, it would be largely pointless since the unfairness (giving persons in some states more than 5 times the voting power of others, even assuming a pristine lack of corruption) and anti-democratic nature (an intent of the bourgeois revolutionary founding fathers based on their observation of the failure of democracies in European antiquity) is well known even by the unlearned. A more trenchant analysis would show how even within this provably unfair and anti-democratic system any challenge to the vested interests of the most powerful, i.e. wealthiest, members of this particular nation-state is impossible. Yet another illustration of how Truth is so much more than Proof. Note also how well said founders succeeded in comparison with the contemporary events in France, at least with respect to the interests of their class if not the nation-state as a whole.
An operatic form of Le Petit Prince aired for the first time on PBS. We had same reaction as to the Ring, wanted very much to see but somehow just couldn't stay awake thru it.
Two Related Epistles:
  • Categorical Imperative No. 1
    No 'special' relationships with members of the species of origin.
  • Sex
    We call this 'the old program'. In an earlier incarnation, we had a contretemps with another user over the fact that this program is most definitely not animal reproduction. It isn't even in general species reproduction since as the basis of evolution it tends as often to mutate as to preserve species. It is instead recombination and its' full operation requires the destruction of a species individuals.

    Of course the primary sacrement of Religion is in fact the true reproduction and in this revised perspective the old program is nothing more than a bodily function well aligned with sentient purpose.

¹ §§ titles of Ch. X of Game Theory, G. Owen.
I find that the teachings of Nature Magic and science are often the same, or the same in different guises. Basically any mystical system asks the same questions as science, and very often they come to similar thoughts. This war between science, magic and religion often seems to me to be absurd. Mayhaps not between science and magic on one side and religion on another, for nearly all accepted religions today (like Christianity, Judaism, etc.) seem to be at war with any other concept that is not their own. This of course (as anyone with a history book will know) has gone on for the past many thousands of years.

To me, any system which teaches that the natural world is a good, beautiful thing, and should be if not worshipped, then understood and loved, is a good system. Many strains of science do the same thing to make people concious of the world, that natural magic does as well. Of course, being a black metal fan, I often find that bands like Borknagar and Vintersorg combine both approaches. Both nationalistic and naturalistic, and scientific (many ifics there). This is something which I enjoy, for it is a thought process which I share.

The energy and being of nature and the world, in all it's guises (both dark and light and in between) attracts me and gives me power. I gain more from a quiet walk or hike in nature than from really anything else. It is very important to me. Whenever I feel odd or ill at-ease I can go out and walk and feel much more happy. And when I can sit and feel the breeze, and smell the air, I feel calm.

I'm not a hippie. I'm not a loner. I'm not against greed or power or pop culture. I'm not bitter, and I'm not awkward.

The trend-setters and jet-setters dominate the puny American mass consciousness. I begrudge no success, but their disciples are stifling. I've done it too... gotten a $50 haircut and a $200 pair of shoes and put myself out there. It's fun to look good and twirl your cosmo around like a mock aristocrat scheming and vying; I don't deny the allure. But, by god, it's hard work. Work without satisfaction, unless you're a social engineer.

I've turned my back on you now. Turned to real work, like deciding what satisfaction really is. I've narrowed it down quite a bit. It's no longer about drive. Everyone is driven by something, sometimes good, sometimes bad; but so are animals. What's important is not what you do with your life but how it's done.

You have conscious but no conscience. You always talk bigger and hungrier, but there's no mindfulness. There's no admission of guilt, or acknowledgement of reality. The slurry of alcohol and cocaine walling in your humanity. Every word sounds more and more like the last, hollow and jaundiced. It's a disease that consumes you.

But I don't hold this against you. We still find moments of happiness. The sacred moments where the veil of matter is briefly lifted and we can breathe as newborn people; drinking in life and exhaling detritus.

Leaders of the Quack: An informal look at the social habits of waterfowl.

First of all, this has nothing to do with the leadership quality of ducks. But read on, if you're so inclined. This morning I was walking to work at Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center in Seattle. Right by the south tip of Lake Union, I saw a crowd of waterfowl made up of a flush of ducks & a gaggle of geese (I guess it was a flaggle). The ducks were quacking, the geese were honking, and all were chowing down on scraps of bread presumably strewn by a previous passerby.

Quack, honk, quack, noise noise noise.

A sparrow touched down in the middle of the flaggle. Then, nothing. All the waterfowl ceased their racket. Not a sound. The sparrow cocked its head up at the towering ones, and then it started to strut around, like a damn cocky pigeon. After a minute of this, the sparrow chirped intermittently, as if to say "Me too, right guys? I'm cool!"

This continued for quite a while, with the ducks and geese more or less eying the sparrow.

Then, a quack. Followed by a few more. Soon, all the ducks were quacking. The geese began to honk as well. The sparrow strutted and chirped some more, then began to peck at the bread scraps.

The sparrow seemed pretty pleased with itself; It had become part of their gang!

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I went out with the girls after work. I wanted to make peace. They had a beef with me because I was late on Thursday for the required 8:30-6:30 hours. The most important measure here is attendance. How can I fight the counting of hours when I work for a trucking company?

I sat across from them – two large-breasted, well-fed suburban girls. They said I was taking too much spare time for myself. Here is why I was not at work:

I was stopped by the police for not having the sticker on my driver’s license renewed. I tried a week earlier, but I had to do something called a ‘drive-clean’ test. I didn’t have time to do it so it went seven days overdue.

The officer said I should not be allowed to drive without the sticker. He went back to his car with my papers to write me a ticket. I waited 10 minutes. I was in a very disadvantaged neighborhood – watching the poor kids walk by. I felt sad for some of them, in ratty old winter coats – I never thought kids actually lived in this dangerous neighborhood. Suddenly, a tow truck pulled up in front of me. I jumped out of my car like someone in COPS, and ran back to the officer.

“What is THAT doing here!” I said with tears in my eyes, “It’s not fair! It’s just a sticker!” The officer ordered me to get back into my car, and explained that the tow truck driver was just his friend. They chatted for ten more minutes, I cried in my car as I watched more kids walk by. He came up and handed me $220 in tickets, which I can’t afford. He said that if I wanted to fight he would see me in court. I drove around and did all of the required paperwork and got to the office at around 11:00.

When I got there, my boss, a 1980s style executive with still a hot body, said that I had to make up the hours because the girls were complaining. I told her that it was exceptional but she did not care.

That night - I tried to explain to the girls – they are under me in rank – but my boss does anything to make them happy. They didn’t care about what happened, or that I had no family in the city to help me. They had issues too – apparently living with their parents in suburbia is a difficult life – they had absolutely no sympathy for me showing up late – for any reason. After assuring them that I would work over the weekend to make up the hours, I went to meet my married boyfriend at the coffee shop.

He was happy to see me – and complimented me on my outfit (a red plaid skirt, red shoes and a black tight shirt), on my hair, on me. He was thoughtful and understanding. I felt relieved. We talked about how I had to get out. He is a seasoned business man and the fact that he thinks I can do better means something. I felt calm but tired. We went back to his hotel and ate sushi and ice cream in bed. We made love and talked all night. It was nice. I’ll remember that night forever.

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