Boston Marathon Bombing
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Discuss this in the Conspiracy thread, in the Forum
Let me say first, any speculation about what happened in Boston, April 15, should be prefaced by empathy, for those who died, for those who were so gravely injured, for those in the immediate vicinity who were traumatized. (It should also be noted that this is a slightly edited version of what appeared originally here in the forum, to better reflect new information, and to correct factual errors.)
Blessings to you. All.
Now, let us consider the “evidence,” like rational people.
First, let us consider the bombs. Supposedly, pressure cookers filled with gunpowder, nails and ball bearings. If you have any familiarity with a pressure cooker, and most people do not, a pressure cooker is generally a fairly heavy apparatus. It has to be, to contain the high pressure and heat, to not blow up in your kitchen, as you are cooking or canning. Typically large enough to hold at least four quart-sized mason jars, though as many as eight or more. So the smallest pressure cooker is going to weigh, empty, between 15-25 lbs. Full of gunpowder, nails and ball bearings, more like 50-70.
The authorities are saying now, these bombs may have been carried to their destinations in back packs. Can we assume then, that one person lugged a big heavy back pack through a large crowd, dumped it in a garbage can, then retrieved another backpack, made another journey through the crowds, dumping big heavy backpack in another garbage can, with nobody noticing? Or are we talking about multiple bomb droppers? Which is a conspiracy.
Unless these bombs were placed well before the crowds showed up. Still, these are going to be awkward things to lug around, and dump; doing so would stand out, among those preparing for the event. Unless the bombs were already in the garbage cans, when the cans were placed there, in which case the person(s) who put the garbage cans there, are either employed by whatever company or gov agency that is in charge of the receptacles, or person(s) masquerading as such.
Assuming the bombs were in garbage cans, as early reports stated.
Second, one can be relatively certain, that just about every square inch of downtown Boston is covered by closed circuit TV (CCTV). So, there should be video of whomever put those bombs there.
Third, let’s consider the time the bombs went off, just before 3pm. The winner of the Boston Marathon crossed the finish line a full three hours before the bombings. That means, all the elite runners were done with the race by approximately 1:00-1:30, which means most of the media, public officials, important peoples, would have vacated the scene by 3pm, with most of the people remaining, regular Joe’s and Jill’s, supporting family and friends running the race.
Forth, the bomb exploded on Patriot’s Day, a Massachusetts holiday, and also tax day. Close to the same day as the Oklahoma City bombing in ’94, and the burning of Waco. Which has led many to surmise that this is the work of home-grown right-wing extremists. Boston being of course, site of the original Boston Tea Party.
Five, there are conflicting reports, relative to the official story that there was no forewarning of an attack, that officials were running drills with bomb sniffing dogs, in the vicinity of the bombs, during the race, prior to the bombs going off.
As to the CCTV, do not expect to hear anything about that in the MSM. One, they do not like to allude to the ever-increasing surveillance state, at any time, under any circumstances. Two, if there is video, we are not likely to see it any more than we have seen video of Adam Lanza breaking into and rampaging through that elementary school in Connecticut, though we know there was CCTV coverage. (What is the point of all that surveillance if it can’t catch bombers in plain sight?)
As to the timing of the remote controlled bombing, and it being tied to domestic right-wing extremism, there are indeed many right-wing gun nuts who glorify the Boston Tea Party, who fetishize the Constitution, who despise government in all it’s forms. Ask yourself however, even if the bomber is a right-wing lunatic crazy man, precisely what irrationality would justify in his mind, killing random regular folk, and not government agents, so typically the targets of right-wing rhetoric? Even in the Oklahoma City bombing, most of those killed were employees of the Federal Government.
As to the reports about drills – that flies in the face of the MSM story that there was no forewarning, as well as circumstantially tying it to 9/11, the 7/7 bombings in London, and the shootings @ Sandy Hook Elementary, official drills coinciding, even mirroring, the actual attacks. (The MSM and Gov still maintain, contrary to considerable evidence, that there was no forewarning of 9/11.)
The Liberty movement is aflame. Go to infowars.com, or Alt-market.com, and you can read about their fears, that this is another false-flag operation designed to demonize the Liberty, Patriot and Tea Party movements, and take away their guns, i.e. initiate total martial law, lockdown in America. This is not without reason. You will never hear the MSM, for instance, discuss the 2 billion+ bullets the Department of Homeland Security has ordered in the last year, or the 1000+ bullet-proof check points. This is news every American should know, but it is not news the MSM will report. Several Obama administration officials, law enforcement officials and MSM pundits have already alluded to home-grown “terrorists,” that oh-so popular catch phrase of fascist authoritarian control freaks everywhere.
Whatever the case, whoever did this is INSANE. And I personally lean toward blaming agents of a secret cabal of behind the scene, fascist authoritarian control freaks, for whom most of the global population is cannon fodder. It doesn’t matter to these people, these fabulously wealthy monsters, who gets blown up, be they in Afghanistan, Pakistan, North Korea, Iran or the streets of America. The point is the maintenance and consolidation of power. Total information control; as many observers note, a fearful people are a pliable, compliant people. It really isn’t complicated; it is only that such an evil is something few are willing or able to contemplate. Most people, like the people who died in Boston, and those so gravely injured and maimed, just want to go through life staying out of trouble.
Well, increasing trouble is coming, of which Boston is only a glimpse. And just remember, no one on this earth is more fond of bombs than governments, and all governments are controlled by the moneychangers.
I suspect those bombs were already there when the winners of the Boston Marathon crossed the finish line. If this was about maximizing mayhem, that would have been the time to set those bombs off. Unless this was about controlled mayhem, in which case, better to kill, injure and maim ‘a bunch of people who don’t matter.’
It is often said, the simplest answer is generally the right one. Conventional wisdom would suggest, this is the work of a right-wing crazy person, or an Islamic fundamentalist. But in a world where the Lusitania, Pearl Harbor, the Gulf of Tonkin, 9/11, 7/7, Sandy Hook and even Aurora, are all known or suspect of conspiracy, when the FBI and CIA are known and suspect of cultivating terrorists, the simplest answer may very well be the one answer hardly anyone is willing to consider – that this world is controlled by a vicious, ruthless people, for whom the ends ALWAYS justify the means.
Twilight of the Standard Model
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Published originally @ Off The Grid in Minneapolis, March 20, 2013
Discuss this in the Doomstead Diner Forum @ Epicurean Delights
I consider physics to be one of the great spiritual triumphs of modern society. In a way, quantum physics is like coming full circle – a reintroduction to mystery in the universe. Indeed, if the point of civilization is to come to know our place in the physical universe, Science (with a capital S) could be said to be one of the great triumphs of the coming-of-age of humanity.
But then, it is not as though Science sees physics as a spiritual triumph, but more a triumph over nature. Thinking so, it cannot see that Science is in part responsible for the proliferation of nuclear material: in major facilities next to people, nuclear tipped missiles, and out of the barrel of guns (depleted uranium bullets). Phlatlets, chemicals, GMO and nano-particles released into the biosphere with near-total abandon. The wanton use of antibiotics threatening new plagues, while industrial methods dependent entirely upon fossil fuels threaten the exhaustion of the land, waters and air. The machinery of quantum mechanics looks to turn the entirety of the earth into a wasteland.
Which the news last week, that the Higgs Boson is semi-officially discovered, “giving” mass to the universe as we know it, under the standard model of physics, should have been considered another great triumph. Alas, word is, the discovery of the Higgs was supposed to open up new vistas of ethereal landscape, in the elucidation of dark matter, gravity, angular momentum, the “vacuum catastrophe”. It was not meant to be a dead end. To reiterate, the standard model of physics, and the elucidation of the Higgs, does not account for that mysterious substance referred to as dark matter, or gravity, or why anything in this universe spins or spirals, or why quantum physics suggests that empty space is in fact denser than matter by an order of magnitude running to infinity. Consider again the devastation wrought by the fruit of Science, and then you might begin to comprehend, that the standard model of physics can be seen as a dismal failure.
Scientists are still hopeful. They are doubling the energy of their Hadron Collider, ever attempting to unlock the mysteries of the universe by FORCE. Meanwhile, the earth and it’s people languish, under ever increasing aggression, as a million and one ideologies seek to silence every other, as every one and their mother attempts to catch, grab and hold what they can of what remains of the once abundant earth, among a population growing exponentially in a way that would not have been possible without Science. And only a very few on the margins are dedicated to healing.
Do you suppose it is mere coincidence, that the twilight of the standard model of physics arrives, at the same time humanity appears to have reached the carrying capacity of the earth, at the same time war is threatened everywhere, as if we are preparing for one last great conflagration, at the same time the financial system seems on the verge of collapse? Does it surprise you that the fiercest of new “superbugs” should arise out of hospitals? Does it surprise you that the “green revolution”, the proliferation of industrial agriculture, should threaten famine unforeseen at any point in human history? Should it surprise you that in a time when their are so few jobs to be had, they are making machines to replace people in many of the jobs that remain? It should not surprise you, if you have not made a god out of the technology wrought by the ingenuity of humans. It should not surprise you, if you are unconvinced that scientific progress is an unequivocal good, for the betterment of humanity. It should not surprise you if you do not believe that Science is the be-all, end-all of human understanding.
Science will never unlock the full mystery of the physical universe, as long as it is assumed that to understand a thing, you must destroy it, as they do so energetically with the Hadron Collider, as they do with cells by tearing them apart. Science is an extension, at this point, of the will to power, of the will to dominate. Science has driven spirit from life, and in so doing, has stultified. Making of the material universe material ONLY, scientists have closed themselves off to themselves. By banishing the irrational, they have closed themselves off to the full breadth of life. In short, scientists need to get HIGH.
Which I think accounts for some of the recent attempt to de-stigmatize cannabis here in America, a kind of unconscious awakening to the fact that what passes for answers in this culture of high tech this-and-that, are not answers at all, but more like gratification of our basest desires, our most cruel assumptions about what life is and what life is about. Consider that modern Science has desired to understand every material thing in the universe, except that most useful of all plants here on earth, except any plant or fungi that can be considered hallucinogenic. Which is to say, Science has closed itself off to the full breadth of the universe of the mind. To claim the mind as a weak and flawed piece of meat, elecro-chemically active but otherwise inert, is to diminish it and humans and life, in a self-similar way as Religion (with a capital R) cut human consciousness away from the earth (which is precisely why the only thing on this earth as rigid as a fundamentalist for God, is a dogmatic scientific atheist.)
More and more, I do hear scientists talking sense. Referring to the human body as an ecosystem, a kind of mirror of the earth outside. It should follow then, that you cannot poison the body of the one and expect it to thrive, any more than you can poison the body of the whole and expect it to support abundant life. Four hundred years after Francis Bacon, Rene Descartes’, Sir Isaac Newton, et al, elucidated for us the scientific method, Science is beginning to comprehend the bombast, the crudity of it’s ways. Too little too late? We shall see. At the same time I hear some Scientists talking about mimicking Nature, I hear others talking about bio-engineering, as a solution to climate change (and really every other problem there is), which is just more of the same over-weening hubris, a fundamental lack of ability to self-reflect. A most paternalistic and immature desire to control everything.
I wonder sometimes if most of what has been wrought, will have to be lost, before we awaken to the error of our ways? If most of that has arisen from the ingenuity of men (mostly), will have to be lost, before we will accept that the universe and life is considerably more mysterious than we like or care to believe? I wonder too if Science will help lead to the total destruction of the earth and biosphere upon which the species depends, and there will never be anything like a search for understanding, by any human, ever again?
It is not merely the twilight of the standard model of physics. It is the twilight of the standard model of everything human.
Embrace the mystery.
God and Football
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Originally published at Off the Grid in Minneapolis
Discuss this article in Epicurean Deights, in the forum
God made an appearance, during the Super Bowl fiesta, did you see that?
Or was that the devil everywhere? I’m not sure anymore, between the two, but then, there’s football to think about, so, all’s good.
I mean, what a dramatic game! A very dramatic Super Bowl – with even a game shifting power outage, following an astounding halftime show; WHAT TECH! And Beyonce’ “killed” it (which for you old timers, is a euphemism for “totally rocked”). I found myself totally cheering for the 49′ers, for old time’s sake, amazed at the strength and accuracy of the arm, of the young man Kaepernick – who, check it out, wrote a letter when he was a kid that he wanted to play in the Super Bowl for the 49ers! Flacco and the Ravens showed extreme poise, and unified vision. The brothers angle was special too, the two opposing head coaches (between whom there is enough antipathy that they could not even embrace after the game.) The ending was a drag, literally, a weird non-call on the last play from scrimmage for the 49ers, and then the punter for the Ravens running around in the end zone, but on the whole it was a great game, and Ray Lewis finally got his title.
As for God, He showed up early, before the game, just like He always does. Ray Lewis gave an interview. Among other things, asked about the man he supposedly killed 13 years ago. To paraphase, “God is perfect, and He wouldn’t ever let a man who could have done what was accused of me, to accomplish what I’ve accomplished.” After which, it was revealed that the interview was recorded before it was revealed that he had used a banned pharmaceutical to heal more quickly from a triceps injury.
Kaepernick called out God’s name too, though Colin compared to Ray Lewis, seems a genuine “babe in the woods,” though it might not seem that way to conservative America, what with all those tatoos. FAITH being most prominent on the golden biceps he is so fond of kissing. Too bad though, God showed up for the bad guy, this time.
Beyonce’ called out to God too, from that fabulous stage. She seemed classy about it too, IMO, thanking the audience at the end, some 111 million Americans, for the opportunity. What an opportunity! One wonders, or at least I do, what would have happened had she called out to the Goddess, instead. LOL. The horror of it.
The devil was more prominent in the commercials. He appeared as Willem Dafoe, for Mercedes (did anyone else notice the Mercedes emblem hovering over it all, at the peak of the Superdome?), and several times, as Stevie Wonder/witchdoctor/Bud Light pimp. There was plenty of mayhem, as Kunstler pointed out:
Did anyone notice how violent and psychotic the Superbowl advertising
was this year? An Oreo commercial that depicted a mob of nerds
destroying a library — huh? The Doritos spot where “Daddy” and his
male buddies transform themselves into an insane clown posse of
cross-dressers. The Fast and Furious 6 trailer featuring the
destruction of every vehicle known to man and a few office buildings,
too. The third-quarter power failure was a neat harbinger of
things-to-come in the Most Exceptional United States of America. Party
on, peeps!
The coup de grace’ did not actually come, until after the game, a contrived Elementary strip tease, and then the slaughter of two doctors, two nurses and a policeman, shot in the head, and throats slit. I only saw three people die the rest of that show, shot in the head and stabbed in the neck, though I never finished watching it. Sometime much later, I caught three minutes of a CSI episode, a middle class woman chained to a bed, mouth covered with duct tape – close-up on her face as she is stabbed to death with an ice pic – her death-image repeated about 50 times in the next 2 minutes, spasmodically.
I have a few theories about that power outage. I didn’t actually know until almost game time, that the game was being played in the New Orleans Superdome. I didn’t want to be a downer during the game, so I didn’t mention all the people who died in that building, post-Katrina. The first thing out of my mouth when the power went out was, “The ghost of Katrina rises!” Or ghosts. It might have been intentional too: the lights out in HALF the building. Notice, the 49er’s were 3rd and 14, down 28-6, early in the third quarter. That’s a lot of advertising that isn’t going to be watched ($), and another 34 minutes of downtime to show them. It worked, great. DHS is sure to make use of the power outage, too, in their propaganda to take over the internet. Maybe it was God though, maybe it was, a little harbinger of what is to come, like Kunstler says.
After the game, I went to a local bar with my brother in law. The ending of that Elementary show was on the TV, the psychotic killer of nurses and doctors in some nice apartment, in a battle of wits with the protagonist, Holmes. Rather than follow along with the captioning, I started talking to the guy next to me, about the tv show, and how weird it was there was so much violence, immediately following the game. He started analyzing it in a sort of comatose and not necessarily overly-drunken way, like, why was it necessary to kill those nurses, as if those first two dead health care professional/doctors and police man made sense, dramatically speaking – identifying with the mass murderer, without really knowing he was doing it. He wasn’t a bad guy; banal would be the word, eating up a “morality” tale on the relative righteousness of revenge killing/psychopathic slaughter. Which there seems to me a great many like him. People who don’t think very well, basically, inured to the imagery of violence. For instance, I hear some hesitatingly harsh talk today about the extreme sexuality of Beyonce’s performance. Violence, on the other hand, is being discussed on NPR right now as I write this, with about as much detached apprehension as that everyman at the bar. If I had to say, what is TV about, after last night’s foray, myself not watching TV very often, I’d say it’s more and more about training people to be killers, clinical like.
So, stepping into the archetype of the raving mystic, for a moment, making a Prophecy, my take-away from Super Bowl XLVII (you might want to avert your eyes):
Ravens will pick from the bones of the dead,
before the descendents of flower children shall rise;
with gold and precious metals, to make a new way
to communicate freely, or to enslave,
or be enslaved if they are not wary
2013 thus far, America
Well, 2013. Here we are, not yet a month in, and it already feels like a decade to me. Where are we? I’ve been distracted. Some thoughts.
How about that Inaugural? Could there be a more appropriate metaphor for where we have come, as a country; history is indeed fractal. A private ceremony/swearing in : pageantry and theatre for the people. Paraphrasing Kunstler: the Black Messiah, Lincoln cum MLK. He’s better at it every time, I’ll give him that, and more hollow sounding. With respect to my gay friends, I think they will have a hard time now criticizing his drone killing, indefinite detention, war making. Not that my gay friends give a shit about that kind of thing, the suspension of the Bill of Rights, et al, any more than your average American. And OMG, he mentioned CLIMATE CHANGE. Historic! He only has to utter the words, and they genuflect before him, never mind that he has never suggested a policy that wasn’t a boondoggle for some entrenched, monied interest, that wasn’t also basically a fuck the earth, whatever, it serves.
I’ve been reading about the Julian-Claudian emperors of Rome: Julius Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius and Nero (49BC-68AD). Julius Caesar was about a thousand times the man turd-bucket GWBush is; and the supposed democratic Senate Julius Caesar deposed, was a tyrant hydra; but for sake of argument let’s say they, BUSH and JC, are both war mongers who said to hell with freedom: Crossing the Rubicon, I’m the DECIDER, Patriot Act, torture, et al. Then there’s O as Augustus Caesar, who institutionalizes tyranny like a constitutional lawyer would, making it the eternal function of the State, who LOOKS and SOUNDS like the pious defender of the principles of the Nation, but who wouldn’t hesitate to unleash the Legions anywhere in the empire, including the capital, if he thought his rule were in danger. Now we’re on a bit tighter of a timeline here, as Augustus ruled for several decades, but if the next four Prezidents correspond to anything like Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius and Nero, well at least America will be more accepting of gay people, theoretically. As for a difference between us and Rome, it seems to me, while the preferred method of destroying political enemies then was murder, forced suicide and character assassination, OUR elite mostly have each others back, while they leave the murder and the suicide and incarceration for the slaves and freedmen, ie regular people, despairing over a shitty economy.
(I.E. Davos. Private meetings, Public theatre.)
Where is the media on any of this? Huffpost published a scathing feature on Obama’s war on cannabis, and the people by extension, by staff writer Ryan Grim – last Saturday afternoon. It was off the front page by Sunday night, nowhere to be found but by digging, Monday morning. This sycophantic puff piece on the basic goodness of government surveillance/control/lockdown posted Saturday, is still one scroll down, main page Monday late, with 1/20th the comments, (never mind, as Ward Churchill pointed out, you can appease TPTB right up to the door to the crematoria.) Speaking of Rome, what was the Jewry of Jerusalem and the surrounding country, in the time of Julian-Claudian rule? Just about the only people ruled by Romans, who could not be crushed. Compared to the 20th century Jewry of Germany, which many millions allowed themselves to be herded, unto an early, hideous death. Wait, I was talking about media, and then Cannabis. Well, if there is an antidote on this earth to being herded, it is pot. If there is a mechanism for herding more powerful than media, I can’t fathom it. Which message from the media just lately, synthesized amounts to: A RECOVERING ECONOMY/IMMINENT ENERGY INDEPENDENCE/NATURAL GAS IS CLEAN! NPR to FOX to MSNBC
MSM, it is safe to say, is become a black art of dissimulation, Bernays vision fully realized. For a brief moment, let us focus on the gun debate. First of all, there was never supposed to be a standing military here in America. Standing armies, the founders knew, become a fraternity of mercenaries and professional soldiers, who care to do little but soldiering, who become the tools of tyrants who destroy the core principles of any republic (generally
Second of all, any weapon, standard-issue in time of war, to the infantry, should be available to ANY adult citizen who displays competency. Such a well regulated militia was meant to be the guard against the herding unto tyranny/war/genocide. Third, we were never supposed to be entangled in other country’s bizness.
So what are they talking about now? National database, gun “buy backs”, guns left at the shooting range? (See Australia) What did the MSM have to say about the 450 Million .40 cal hollow point rounds, DHS alone purchased in 2012, or the billion+ rounds they purchased total, of various calibre? Nada. Nothing. And that hardware is just DHS. That doesn’t include CIA, FBI, NSA, DEA, ATF, et al Fed, State and Local law enforcement, and all the decommissioned weaponry of Afghanistan and Iraq, heaped upon them. From a strictly strategic standpoint, American’s are going to need a hell of a lot of AR-15 .223cal rifles, well-organized, to fend off the State with all those .40cal hollow points, domestic surveillance apparatus, drones, etc. That doesn’t even count the Military. Assuming all that hardware is facing the people, and not turned back against the State, of course, should trouble start (see, I do have faith in Americans). But the job of the MSM, you see, is to support the State, not question it. BTW, I don’t own a gun, and I’m not on the market for one. I figure, if I ever need one, the universe will provide, which is good enough for me right now, thanks.
Has anybody out there read Sibel Edmonds book Classified Woman? There isn’t a better book right now, that I’m aware of, detailing how low this country has sunk. Basically, Ms Edmonds, being a First Generation American, exiled essentially from her native Turkey because she wrote an article in grade school about the necessity of a free press, found herself courted by the FBI, immediately after 9/11. Her familiarity with Middle Eastern languages and culture, and her standing in the community recommending her. A true believer in The American Way, she signed up to serve her adopted country, as a translator.
What she found was an FBI leadership not the least bit interested in protecting America, operating primarily as a domestic surveillance organization dedicated to protecting the bureau, and it’s Washington, corporate, banking and military patrons, at the expense of America’s safety. Uncovering a brazen spy network within the bureau, notifying the bureau, the bureau did what any Machiavellian enterprise would do. Classified Woman is a study of modern character assassination, with the United States Federal Government, as Assassin. Suffice to say she didn’t have ANY friends or family left, (except her loving, dedicated husband) by the time gov got done with her. They went so far as to classify HER, as in, she couldn’t even declare her age, without running afoul of anti-espionage laws. Which, if you think Bush was an ASS, Obama has treated whistle-blowers like spies, more egregious in his harsh treatment of them than any president in modern American history. A real monster.
Ms Edmonds book, too, is another tale of how 9/11 was not what it was purported to be. It’s abundantly clear, to anyone who cares about this country, and will take the time, that 9/11 was in some way all about gov. The 9/11 Commission was a fraud, and no serious government attempt to get at the truth of what happened, has ever occurred. Which Americans neither, have invested much time in thinking about what that means for this country. Consider the recent hoopla about Zero Dark Thirty. To torture or not to torture. It is almost laughable; the Left will get uppity about torture, but not Obama bombing Americans with drones, indefinite detention, or Stellar Wind and the domestic surveillance state, etc. (The Right doesn’t seem to care about anything but more war, less taxes, and making abortion – and by extension, miscarriage – a freedom-ending criminal offence.) I have a visceral revulsion at the very idea of a movie about the Bin Laden killing, not least because of this country’s soulless acceptance of perpetual war and militarism generally; but consider too, how that film basically serves to sanctify the 9/11 official story, like a collective absolution for such a feckless, soft, easily manipulated people, so prone to denial and willing to forget. Here now, feel how righteous you are, arguing about torture, while your government operates as a quasi-authoritarian, do-as-we-please-because-we-can, expanding information capture, incentivized asset forfeiture, criminal racketeering conspiracy/enterprise. When was the last time you heard someone say “the land of the free and the home of the brave,” except as a joke? I feel like if I went out in public now, with that orange afro wig I used to dance in, on Hennepin Ave, out in front of the Halloween store, I’d be arrested and detained indefinitely. That’s how lock-down things have already become. But if you are a banker…
Meanwhile there is Sandy Hook. Granted, that happened in 2012, but most of the conspiracy talk has surfaced here in 2013. The latest? Here at the Doomstead Diner, Peter, one of the founding members and the techie genius who put this site together, who’s work on Hydroponics I have highlighted in my blog, is convinced he has found evidence that Sandy Hook was a false flag operation,. He says he has evidence that several web pages dedicated to the tragedy, were in fact posted before the tragedy occurred. He believes the incident was meant to take place on Dec 10, but something happened that put it off for four days; during which time they failed to pull back all their co-conspirators, who posted the prepared info as originally directed. He has screen shots of the offending web-sites, and Google has evidently locked the cache, so they cannot be accessed by the public now. He also claims the activist Aaron Swartz, was murdered, because he was the one who found the cached documentation. In irony, it would be the RSS feed Swartz had a hand in inventing, that provided for the information being available? I don’t know; I’m not a techie, strictly speaking, and haven’t been able to my satisfaction verify what Peter is saying. I do trust him, however.
Which, I relay the information not because I believe it or am convinced, necessarily, but because Peter is concerned that he is going to end up suicided, or accidented, basically; and having accepted gross malfeasance of my gov, and because I trust Peter, and we are a lonely outpost here at the Diner, I affirm his right to exist.
Whatever you believe, consider, they say this Adam Lanza was the killer. Try a google search about Adam Lanza’s medical records. All I found was speculation. Not even reporting, nothing official. We do not have access to his medical records, or even a discussion, just a blanket declaration of better mental health care? These records are said to be “private”? The government is on the verge, with Stellar Wind, of Total Information Capture of All Digital Communications anywhere in America, but the medical records of a mass killer of innocent children are “private”? My government obeys laws to the degree it finds convenient, it seems to me. Whatever ‘investigation’ is happening, it is sure to result in a justification for further exploration of Max Weber’s ideas about the only legitimate powers (violence) belonging to the State. See, the people will be disarmed, but for Law Enforcement/Military, there is no conceivable limit…
But, like Tiberius, I mean Hillary, said(paraphrased), “What does it matter now, what happened? The only thing that matters is that we prevent it from ever happening again.” What does 9/11, Benghazi, Sandy Hook matter now – the truth does not matter – the only thing that matters is increased powers for the State, that the State can “prevent” bad things from happening again. But then, if the State was behind 9/11…
Anyway, lively already, here in 2013. Likely to get livelier. At least we won’t see Caligula until 2020 or 2024. Claudius 2024 or 2028, and Nero 2028 or 2032 approx. Which, based on the trends, I expect America as the light of the world to be mostly snuffed out by then. Unless of course Americans start asserting their independence, like citizens of a republic; less wards of the Imperial State.
RIP Aaron Swartz
Discuss this article at the Heros of the Revolution Table inside the Diner
The death of the techie “wizard” Aaron Swartz has affected me as much as, and really even more deeply, than the incident at Sandy Hook. I’m not comparing the two cases in any other way than to say that they affected me deeply; nor did I know any of the dead. It affected me though, not merely because of what happened, but also because of what I have learned about my country, by the response. On one extreme is the netherworld of the fringe of fringe media, claiming Sandy Hook was a covert government/Illuminati operation to lead to a national database on all guns and eventually their seizure and martial law and extermination of Americans; to the other extreme of MSM manipulation, and hopeless obfuscation, about damn near everything newsworthy, left and right, the Swartz case a prime example.
If you think the charges against Aaron Swartz levied by the Federal Government were about some science documents he attempted to liberate from MIT and JSTOR, then you don’t know anything about power. I mean yeah, he was challenging their right to profit selling public-paid-for research (which the government accused the dead man of having wanted to do.) But really, Those charges were RETRIBUTION for SOPA, the Stop Online Piracy Act, 2011 Federal legislation that nearly everyone in Congress and the President were firmly behind, Left and Right, when it was first introduced. Which, after Google, Craigslist, much of the techie crowd and Aaron Swartz including a great many Americans across the spectrum, made it very clear that this bald-faced government attempt to take over the Internet was a problem, Congress and the President were united firmly against the bill.
So, when Aaron Swartz took those documents from MIT and JSTOR, despite it being clear that he was making a statement more than anything – that research paid for by public funding should be free to the public, which it was not – he opened the door for them to attempt to destroy him.
Never mind that he had been described as a “wizard of programming.” Never mind that he was at least partially responsible for the RSS feed. Never mind, that he was responsible at least in part for Reddit. A prodigy. A genius. Deeply caring and peaceful.
Government now is circling the wagons. Various enquiries are being suggested, others initiated. MIT administration is taking a beating somewhat, for their betrayal of him. Laws are being discussed. The Wall Street Journal as early as Sunday night, doing it’s elite service, quoted “a person familiar with the matter”, that Aaron had been offered a 6 month plea deal, managing the discussion with unaccountable bullshit, trying to manage the blowback. It seems clear to me now they were fully intending to ruin him.
And why, really? Because he wasn’t an empire builder.
What did the great Eric Shmidt of Google have to say about this case? How about the techie genius Larry Ellison at Oracle? Bill Gates? That Facebook guy? Craigslist merely notes generically that Aaron Swartz “is a person who has recently died.” No call out to their friend, their fellow culture-warrior, protector of freedom, no goodbye header. WTF?
And gov? Darell Issa is at least going to investigate. Which, yeah, he’s one of the few who was against SOPA, but that’s mostly just because he’s a pirate basically, and he despises that “cock-suck” Eric Holder, and he’d do anything to embarrass Holder’s boss. Speaking of “cock sucks”, Elijah Cummings, ranking DEM member of the House Oversight Committee, jumped to the defense of the government. Whatever. Bunch a god damn wet noodles in the face of the banks.
The whole god damn scenario basically confirms for me that Authority in this country is overrun with murderers, pedophiles, sadists and thieves. Counting on American obliviousness, basically. Expecting American obedience for sure.
I mean, jail time and financial ruination, one way or another, for the young man? For “stealing” public-paid-for research, that he gave back. Where the fuck is John Corzine? I mean, these guys can’t even offer up one of their own as a sacrificial lamb! For stealing 2 billion dollars! HSBC gets caught laundering international drug money to the tune of many tens (hundreds) of billions, AND NOTHING HAPPENS.
And even with all that surreality, more than all that, it’s like a betrayal of the promise of science and technology. Because it’s clear to me now, it’s not about what is good or best for people, it’s only about power. Money and power; who controls what and whom.
So let it be known, America. You will play along. You may question the arrangement of things; but if you stand in our way, if you embarrass us with any success, we will destroy you.
RIP Aaron Swartz
Doom and the Spiritual Path
Discuss this article in Epicurean Delights in the Forum
A reader contacted me last week, with this to say,
“By the way, You’re awfully full of doom and gloom and woe-is-me and
isn’t-my-life-hard of late. It’s not very becoming and I don’t get how
creating this narrative serves you–or the goddess for that matter. You
are so not a victim in this life. So knock this shit off. And stop
creating corners that you can then back yourself into. Infinite
possibility, compassion, love, cosmic mystery–that’s where your power
is.
It’s a new year, a new era, and (for me, at least) a brandly [sic] new
decade. This year, I’m choosing surrender as my theme. Not raise the
white flag surrender. More like jump in the river and let it take you
surrender. We’ll see where that takes me.”
I was like, wha? Letting go of this house and dancing around the world, farm to farm, in an orange afro wig isn’t surrender enough for you? LOL. As for not being very becoming, it’s January in Minnesota, I don’t have a job, and I’ve been spending most of my time on-line or on the computer, at least since I started at big bank in late August 2012, and anyone who knows me knows I have a high tolerance for chaos in my immediate surroundings; so no, not very becoming at all. lol
But yes, goodness, kindness, compassion, love, cosmic mystery; and yes, the possibilities are indeed infinite, maybe – I’m not sure about that exact specific just yet
She replied, “What was that again, about Cosmic Mystery?”
Hmmmm….
On the Doomstead Diner, there’s a Nobody in the forum who wrote about being at the cusp of leaving this plane, this dimension, Dec 21, 2012. But she stayed, and speaking of Doom and Gloom she has two teenage sons, who can’t imagine there is anything at all really wrong with the culture, blase’ even to the point that Mom being followed in a wooded park by a disturbing stranger, is merely reason that she’s just crazy basically, to want to go for a walk on a trail in the woods. She is like a lot of people who think about DOOM, or the meme basically that Industrial Civilization is coming apart around us, on it’s way to almost total dissolution, who feel trapped in current circumstances, whose families are mostly about BAU, and/or they “own” city real estate/debt they can’t discharge.
She seemed to resonate when I said this, in the Doomstead Diner Forum:
It is funny how easily the response to Ashvin* has overwhelmed any other
discussion. It is I think, in a way, a dearth of answers about how to
perceive the changing landscape. It is changing very fast; no wonder
really Ashvin has lashed onto something he has perceives [sic] as fixed. I
perceive instead, I think, that chaos is the new reality,
and that is about opening up to an irrational, right-brain way of
perceiving, learning to flow with the inherent flow of nature, which is
like what is said about the Tao, which makes the whole concept of Doom
something spiritual, a kind of search for balance between left/right
ways of perceiving. IMHO LOL.
So I encourage Diners to speak in a spiritual way about how they perceive Doom. And I hope Ashvin is over having to use us to flagellate himself.”
* Ashvin is a curious case, a former contributor to the website The Automatic Earth, whose work on economics and the abuse of power I have highlighted in this blog, who has abandoned the Doom meme entirely in favor of Christian Theology, to the point that if you do not accept the inherent logical and reasoned foundation of Christian exegesis, then you are according to Ashvin by definition incapable of reason or logic. He has been known to use the words reason and logic like incantations, like a bludgeon. He has also been accused (by me) as an exceptional, or at least profligate, name caller; Ashvin just as ready to claim he never said whatever, even at times contrary to evidence. I’m also convinced he is going to stand one day at the head of one of those televangelical mega-churches, assuming there are such things 10-15 years from now. The Doomstead Diner has been like a crucible on his path to Glory, I think. Unless he repents of course and grows himself a sense of humor.
LOL
I’m of the opinion, like I say, that he has lashed onto Christianity because he sees it as a thing fixed, as in, a firm foundation, lasting. Which is an understandable response, facing the dissolution of Industrial Civilization. No doubt Christianity appears a very sturdy dock. But any mariner will tell you, lashing to the dock, in rising, turbulent waters, you better hope the tethers hold; whereas it would be better generally to head for open water, seeing esp. as most of those docks extant, were not built for the reality of rising seas that is in progress.
Doom, is a spiritual exercise insofar as it is a coming to terms with the fact that almost everything we have been told about this existence, is false in some fundamental way. Doom is facing the reality that many of those stories that have held society together are shattering, in the face of sheer fundamental terrestrial realities, of 7+ billion people and climbing exponentially, about half of whom are wanting to and have been at least until lately, living like profligate consumers. It is the reality that neither Science nor Religion nor Government nor Banks nor Corporations are protecting us from disaster, they perpetuate it everywhere. Because they are sustained by ideas of control, which is about power. Seeking not to understand nature, or even the furthest implications of Science, but to control nature and people generally.
Which process began about the time we started growing food agriculturally, about 10,000 years ago. Which has come to it’s logical conclusion, which is a nearly complete surveillance state, at the cusp of radically shifting climate extremes, systemic toxicity, global financial collapse…so on and so forth.
Which, when I consider the effect all this has had on my body, after nearly 40 years immersed in American consumer culture, I recognize that the left hemisphere of my brain quite literally has been over-developed, which has resulted in the right side of my body, full of pain, tightness, restriction, to the point that it has been warped out of alignment; while the left side of my body is comparatively free of such restriction. Such misalignment is probably inevitable, to the degree I have been immersed in and accepting of Western culture, to the degree I was unaware of the effect and not striving for alignment, physically and mentally. By alignment, I don’t mean any kind of Pythagrean or Platonic ambidextrousness as ideal, but more just being aware that there are two hemispheres to your brain, which are connected to opposite (and complimentary) sides of your body, and they have different specialities, and to be radically over-reliant on either is to be out of alignment. Alignment meaning, it seems to me, as natural and easy a flow as is possible, of energy, through both sides of the brain and body? Which is to say, loosely, equal facility with order and chaos, logic and intuition, conscious and unconscious, culture and wilderness, etc.
And then add in things like quantum physics, that the ether, or empty space, is in fact denser energetically than matter by an order of magnitude running to infinity (vacuum catastrophe), making dense matter something more like an impossibly ethereal dream, compared to the energy permeating EVERYTHING; and then you begin to perceive that this universe and reality is mysterious by orders of magnitude greater than any of the various control freaks would have it; and most of the ideas extant are about keeping people ignorant, dependent and pliant, to keep them in line. Because control is about power, and power is very lucrative.


Which, for me, alignment in my mind and body is more important than power over people. Power over people akin to power over nature. Which I am more about how to let nature flow through me more freely. Which for me, is more about being friendly, kind, compassionate and loving to people and the earth generally. Which if Industrial Civilization is indeed coming apart around us, we might do well to facilitate both that collapse, and the friendly, kind, compassionate and loving inside ourselves, as opposed to cultivating various ideas about control, as example, or cultivating nothing much but fear and acquisitiveness, to be eventually overwhelmed by circumstances. Which it seems to me, the universe has a very real sense of humor, which I sense whenever I cease to take things too seriously, which is akin to the “acting with out acting”, the wei wu wei, of the Taoists. Which if the “ether” is in fact denser energetically than matter by an infinity, what in fact are humans capable of? Which question I leave mostly to your imagination, your consciousness, and what you are able to pull out of it to show us, in the very real world we inhabit, in a world that is very much in need of fresh ideas.
Which, it seems to me, those most honest about Doom, are at a kind of evolutionary advantage, compared to those who are assuming someone somewhere is assuring that some techno utopia is right around the proverbial corner, as example. Or that God will intervene as some Messiah. Or the many not thinking, and many not capable of thinking, the herd and media manipulated reactionary consumer, “driving” the economy devouring the earth.
Which, I guess all I’m really saying is, there are many ways to imagine a culture. Strong characters required.
Realities, 2013
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Originally published Jan 03, 2013 @ Off The Grid In Minneapolis

Discuss this article in Epicurean Delights, in the Forum
2013 begins for me, with about $1200 cash, a mortgage and bills, a house to maintain, without a working furnace, in the midst of a ten day stretch of below freezing weather with average temperatures around 10F (-12.22C), with no job, no income, and no real prospect of any. Two working, 1800W oil-filled radiators, and a working 40 gal water heater it turns out, are in no way sufficient to heat even this small 750 sq ft house, to anything even resembling what most Americans would consider a minimum threshold of comfort, in even half of this house, when it’s this cold. Not least because this house was built in 1918 when the only idea I suspect was to burn as much wood as was needed, to maintain whatever they considered normal, which was probably austere by today’s standards. The woodlot has since been swallowed up by urban sod, tar and concrete for forty miles in every direction at least. Most everything beyond that for a hundred miles+, by corn, sod and road. They build homes these days basically to burn as much natural gas as is necessary. Though you won’t find any of that for 500 miles in any direction, with Minneapolis as your starting point.
If I’m completely honest about it, even the energy necessary to run these two modest heaters and the water heater, comes increasingly from fracked natural gas. The electricity is also generated by the burning of coal, and of nuclear fission, there being two nuclear facilities on either side of the Twin Cities Minneapolis/St Paul greater metro, thirty-five miles upriver and thirty-five miles downriver on the Mississippi. Some electricity is generated in the west and the south of the state, and in the Dakotas and Iowa by wind, but only a small fraction; and as Congress has been playing games with the Wind Tax Credit, in the faux-furor over the fiscal cliff, what turbines we have may be all we’re going to have for awhile.
When I returned to this house in the spring of 2010, with $80, no income and no prospects, I had already as long as two years before that been dreaming of rebuilding this house, to take it off the grid, with as much scrap material as I could find, to show how it can be done, to be a model for what could be possible for the entire region. That vision has evolved, but I have failed miserably, in creating any of that vision for this house – but a few cosmetic effects, which do little to improve the livability of any insufficiently or unheated house, in a cold climate.
I’ve been much more successful with the land. There’s not much land here, but I have 18 fruit trees, 14 grape vines, 2000-3000 sq ft of veggie gardens and another several thousand feet of wildflowers, perhaps 300 different species of plants year to year. The healthiest black-cap raspberry patch I’ve ever seen anywhere in the region, red raspberries, asparagus and strawberries. Half of the driveway now is antique paver, there’s a paver patio next to the pond. The front walk is partially paver. I built stone garden beds along the driveway and the garage. I’m hoping to plant hops on the garage this spring.
All of which is cold comfort, in a cold house in winter. Much of which would likely be bulldozed and poisoned if it fell into the hands of the bank or a speculator. The house torn down, replaced by some hideous suburban Mcmansion style three story energy sink surrounded by sod, on this corner lot-and-a-half, south-east facing. Onward progress. I don’t know that my neighbors would mind overly much. Though when those pavers went in this fall, more people came by and spoke to me in a friendly way than ever before, even esp. because of the White Pine in the driveway
(My neighbor across the street just walked out of the back of his house, and chucked his Christmas tree off the back porch) LOL
Perhaps I am not ready to build the house I imagine building here? I imagine travelling around the world, helping people build unusual houses, helping people build gardens, dancing across Europe, dancing in Africa, going down-under, building a boat, sailing that boat eventually to the Big Island, Hawaii, walking around that island, eventually sailing to an inlet of British Colombia; and from there, either crossing the divide on foot, then paddling home, or depending on the security situation, sailing all the way around the Americas, up the Great Lakes to dock in Duluth. Maybe then, I think, I would be prepared to build the house I imagine. Perhaps by that time, Minnesota will be prepared to rebuild. Perhaps this house and this garden will not be destroyed, and available.
That would make a nice novel, too. Wouldn’t mind making this the home place, actually, a little writing loft above the greenhouse/garage. But oh right, one must finish a novel, to have something to sell, assuming someone is willing to buy; to help see this thing through. Which, novel writers need time, which I am in possession of for a short while at least. Dedication…Oh right.
Then I’m reminded of the security situation here in America. Not least increasing government surveillance, indefinite detention, expansion of the punitive penal, quasi-military state, but also pending food and energy problems. All hail the House of Saud. Natural gas is an investor inspired bubble, which threatens a vast investment bubble in natural gas infrastructure, that is sure to be useless when the fracking bubble pops. Never mind the polluting of aquifers, inevitable in punching so many holes deep into the earth, pumping vast amounts of chemical laden water at high pressures to fracture the underlying rock strata, leaking pipes etc. Aquifers not just necessary for drinking but for farming also. What if we had to rely on what falls from the sky, with an increasingly unstable climate? A lot of people die, that’s what.
$8,000-$15,000 an acre for farm land is called investors fucking with food, btw. An investment bubble exactly like the Tech bubble, Housing bubble, and the natural gas/oil fracking bubble. That’s going to be some dear corn after the investors take their cut, the interest paid, particularly during drought. Of course once the Ogallala is sufficiently empty, that’ll be the end of the breadbasket of the world, so make your riches while you can, I guess. Of course, pumping all that fossil water couldn’t save the crop this year. Nor the mass culling of the herd. Then there’s all the guns. A hungry people increasingly insular, manipulated by the media, made hungrier by debt bondage, few of them ever taught how to think. Seems a strange strategy to run a civilization, but no doubt the major players have their own plans to GTFO if TSHTF.
So you see, it’s no more crazy to stay here, than to go traipsing around the world in an orange afro wig. LOL
I applied for Unemployment bennies. That was easy. Twenty minutes online. My estimated benefit came to 0$, because there was no bubble to click in the section about why I am no longer employed, about a peaceful exit from a crooked enterprise. I didn’t massage the how or the why about why I left big bank, came right out and said the job involved potentially unethical and borderline criminal work, so I put on an orange afro wig and danced at my cubicle/work station, knowing my job performance was too good to get me laid off, otherwise. If I just walked away I wouldn’t qualify, and walking away, the Agency wouldn’t place me again, anywhere. Apparently I’ll get a letter in the mail, after the application is reviewed by a living human. The computer only recognizes that I got fired. There’s an appeal process, should I be declined.
There’s one job I might possibly be able to finagle my way into, but I’m going to have to be super charming about it, and I know it won’t pay more than $11.25-$11.50/hr – goodbye, $200 left over for food, craft beer. LOL Good thing I’ve got that 6 gallons of 2011 Frontenac wine in the basement, which I cracked last night and you know what, it ain’t all that, but it ain’t half-bad either. Works as advertised! In three years I could be producing 200 bottles, between what I planted here, and the vines at my sisters. Maybe more.
Plenty of food staples in house to get me by, till the thaw. Theoretically, I shouldn’t have to leave my house for the next two months, except for coffee. Oh right, Mortgage, bills, job…
Oh right, and my State of Minnesota tax return is going to get swallowed up by the State of Minnesota, because they say I owe them $300, because they say I made $12,000 in 2008, instead of the $9000 I apparently reported. Going back in time, to fleece the poor. That is the criminal racketeering enterprise American governance has become. Oh joy; big bank, big gov.
Oh and my Unemployment Benefit’s should I receive any, generally said to be less than 50% of previous income, are taxed at a rate of 10% by the Feds and 5% by MN? Nutz. Bizarro.
Oh wait. Remember how the media supported the OWS movement, mostly? And then mocked them for their weakness, for not returning to the streets in 2012? Here is evidence that there was a vast nation-wide suppression of the OWS movement, lead by the FBI, at the behest of the big banks and big corps, with even planned assassinations by sniper of OWS leadership – and you have to go to the Guardian in the UK to find anyone in the major media reporting on it? Which makes the media of America what, whore to the expanding police surveillance state? Which begs the question then, can one remain good or moral or have real integrity, and work for big gov, big bank, big corp, big ag, big edu, big law enforcement, big military, big media, big monstrous global machine devouring people and the earth?
Not sayin you can’t, just sayin the question needs askin’
Dreaming
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Originally published 12/28/12 at Off The Grid In Minneapolis
Discuss this post in Epicurean Delights, in the Forum
Last week, on the Solstice, I wrote about how I’d been fired from big bank for dancing in an orange afro wig at my cubicle/work station. Word came later, which I mentioned in the comments of that post, that a few people had rushed out of the building terrified, one woman was afraid to walk to her car alone after work, and at least one called in sick the next day, saying she was too afraid to come to work. Big bank couldn’t not fire me, and that the police were nearly called, led directly to me cleaning my house top to bottom, which had got kind of grubby, LOL – anticipating as I was a potential visit by the FBI, for having caused such a disturbance at big bank. I haven’t seen them.
Never mind big bank seemed to me to be engaged in massaging loan documents, to pawn off the loan on Fannie and Freddie, i.e. gov. Not altering documents, that I know of, but certainly not including certain documents in the package sent to gov, to make the loan look less distressed. Not necessarily illegal, but then, what is illegal, when you are gov, big bank, corp or fed? Right, freak out about the guy in the orange wig. Suffice to say I am tired of working for shysters and hucksters, no matter how shiny legit they appear parading across the television.
Which, big bank, as I said, has not seen fit to forgive the mortgage on this house, in firing me. Suffice to say too, I was not particularly happy with the $200 each month left over, after I paid the various tributes to exist here (and I don’t own a car), to do their dirty work (a “butt-in-seat, in the morgue/meatlocker/chop shop.”)
Not sure what I’m going to do now, there being so many shysters and hucksters. I was thinking of “bleeding the beast” and applying for unemployment benefits, but for all I know I’m still “employed” by the temp agency I was working for, at the Behemoth in 2008. I never have applied for gov bennies since I accepted a few small, ill-chosen loans in the early nineties, for college. Might apply just to report on what happens – a little cushion would be nice too, though I’m dubious, all around. Meanwhile, I’ll look for a job. Never have made more than $27,000 in any year of my adult life, and the average since I was 22 is probably more like $15,000, or maybe $10,000. I feel like maybe I deserve a good paying job doing something enjoyable and meaningful, not least that I am a hard worker when it means something, not least because of what I would likely do with the money, taking this house off the grid, growing as much food here as possible – but then, if such a job is available to me, I’m not aware of it. (When I was a kid, there was often talk from the media and the schools, that someday soon, technology would eliminate work. Now, it’s all ‘work harder longer for less,’ with no social guarantee eventually. Presumably the uber-rich will be allowed to continue as they are, even until they print their first trillionaire. LOL)
The house itself is in stasis, mostly. The furnace doesn’t work, and it doesn’t appear like temperatures will be above freezing anytime the next ten days. I live mostly in the kitchen and my bedroom, two oil filled electric radiators maintaining a temp somewhere between 50-60F, the kitchen warmer on sunny days. The basement hovers around 38F, because of the water heater. The rest of the house stays around freezing. It’s a pleasant enough place for me; I’ve lived in tents for months at a time. Not very livable though, certainly not for entertaining. LOL
I’d like to continue the work I started here. I imagine an attached greenhouse, fish ponds, hydroponic veggies, cisterns, solar radiant heating, even going underground and growing avocado and citrus. The tribute is high, however, and the resources I’d require, I’ve never had anything like, even though I could do it comparatively moderately, cost-wise. Making this a kind of focal point to help transform the region.
Of course, it’s all madness. Considering this lot, in the midst of the squarest neighborhood in Minneapolis, in the midst of a 3-million metro food desert. I can imagine roving gangs of Somali, Latino, Black, White, Hmong, cop and Christian Fundies, zombie hoards, a vast military machine unleashed in the interior. Two nuclear facilities on the Mississippi, upriver and downriver 35 miles each way, melting down.
I get to thinking like that every time I spend more than a few hours watching teevee, like I did at my parent’s this Christmas. I can’t tell the difference anymore between CNN and FOX, the pandering, the conditioning for war in the Middle East, in Syria and Iran. Americans have seemed to mostly disregard the calls for armed commandos in every school, coming to the conclusion basically that it would be too expensive. I swear, American’s are fatter every time I expose myself to the tube. And meaner, more invested in the status-quo, BAU, extract, acquire, consume.
Meanwhile of course, law enforcement top-to-bottom in this country is becoming little more than a pipeline for a vast penal system public and private, unlike anything the world has ever seen, deeply engrained now in our economy, from cops on the beat to prosecutors to drug testers to the many vendors supplying the many prisons, more military/commando authoritarian in it’s methods every day. We even have public/private internment camps for “alien” Latinos, while middle class liberals consume earnest media retrospectives on internment camps for Japanese, during WWII; local law enforcement flooded with the “decommissioned” weaponry of our un-paid-for adventures in Iran and Afghanistan. Two things we haven’t heard a peep from the media, in the so-called debate about violence following the shooting at Sandy Hook, are: What pharmaceutical anti-psychotic regimen was that young man on; and, this country has been at war for 12 years, our President is a known killer of children by drone, our military and CIA are in perhaps every country of the world, “protecting our interests”, stirring up all kinds of blowback, that we 5% of humans might consume 35% of the worlds resources.
Last week I said too, all I really want to do is dance around the world in the orange afro. Remember that book, Catcher in the Rye? It’s kind of like that. What economic situation we have is akin to coercion, ruled by hard asses, mean bastards and hypocrites. Holden Caulfield was merely an honest one, if he didn’t really know what to do with that. All he wanted was to be a protector of the innocent, a life of purpose not built on lies, on things that cannot be said, on things that cannot be true. I figure I could dance like a dervish in the orange wig, with a tip jar out, making enough money to exist. I also happen to know people all over the world who are planning to build or are building interesting houses and big gardens. I also happen to be a former building contractor, and I have nurtured here a kind of Edenic oasis. That would be about the most honest living I have ever made, bouncing from place to place, helping however I can.
Ideally, I would keep this place too, until I finish the work I imagine here. How ANY of this happens though, I can’t imagine. It seems like dreaming TOO big, based on the life I have lived to this point, considering too the increasing chaos in the world, and the fact that I’ll be out of money again soon. So I guess all I can do is call it out, and let the Goddess sort it out
. Otherwise, I don’t see at this point how even to keep the house I seem to be renting from big bank, and a garden I am effectively leasing from the county, at a cost I seem incapable of paying. Not esp. if I would have to otherwise spend a fourth winter in this cold house.
I turn 40 this summer. I’d like to go see my friend Luciddreams, meet his family and help them around the homestead. I’d like to go to Cornwall to help Jason Heppenstall and his family with their homestead. A kind of pilgrimage too, to that Island, from which I presume I have ancestors going way back. I know of another curious project in Tasmania. As long as I’m dreaming, I wouldn’t mind dancing along the Champs-Elysees, and maybe in Africa and Mali particularly, or maybe the Congo, to dance something like this (speaking of ancestors going way back)
To make any of this happen, what I imagine, I’m going to need some help. To that end, I’ve added an email option to the blog, in the right-side column. If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them.
Fired
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Originally published at Off The Grid In Minneapolis, Dec 21, 2012
Discuss this post in Epicurean Delights inside the Diner
I got fired from big bank Thursday, Dec 20, 2012.
Fired, for dancing, in my orange wig, on my break, an hour before the end of day at big bank, before a five-day holiday break.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It basically went down like this:
Sometime about Monday, an idea about dancing at my cramped cave-like work station, took hold in my imagination. Like all great ideas, it felt exactly right, until I had a day to think about it, flooded with all the reasons why not to, there being many. Wednesday night though, the vision took hold again, and I pulled out my dusty glitter dancing shoes, the wacky jacket and the wig, the Bose sound system, the iPod and the necessary cords. Thursday morning I packed them up, and off to the bus I went.
On the bus I wavered. Then, listening to my mp3s, I heard the two songs I would dance to and then I knew. Arriving at big bank per-usual twenty minutes early, I walked into the back break room and started preparing. I put on the shoes, the jacket and the wig; when I turned around, ready to dance to my station, there was Bob, the head manager in the department, looking at me, smiling. “Hi Bob!” I said, and he smiled again and walked out of the break room, uninterpretable, but not seeming to mind. I followed him down the aisle about six paces behind, between regular big bank employee cubicles, bouncing around like I do, to the very song that inspired the costume (which only I could hear), which had looped to that point serendipitously. Heads were turning, mouths agape or turned upward with a light in the eye, I sauntered to my station, danced awhile, while I punched in online, talking to a woman seated near me, people laughing and giggling. Then I took the gear off and went to work.
My original intention had been not to pull out the gear again, until the last five minutes of the day. But there was little work to do, people were clearing out early to go home, so I kicked up the timeline to the afternoon break.
In the meantime, I struggled against a cold sweat. Dancing in my chair to stay warm. Serendipitously too, I found this article on the website Zero Hedge, as to whether or not one can remain moral, and continue to work for a big bank. I don’t necessarily agree with the conclusion – I don’t know what a moral is, it sounds to me like a dead fish – but I do consider myself a man of integrity. Then, minutes before I started to prepare for dancing, a guy behind me was reading a loan and he said, “Look at this, this guy is a Pastor of an evangelical church and school, making $20,000 a month. His wife is a teacher at the school and makes $1000. Saving the poor and disfortunate, I guess.”
I put the jacket and the wig on (I wore the funky shoes all day), and at exactly two o’clock, I turned on the music.
The first song, Junek Bug Joe, only 2:18 long, djembe drum and mandolin based without vocals, by my friend Joe Credit, out of Missouri, or wherever he is now. (This link is to Joe’s song about coffee, the only one I could find. Blogspot doesn’t have an audio upload. You’ll get the idea.) LOL. Up tempo, up beat. Nearly every head I could see was facing me, perhaps 70 people, and most of them were smiling.
Before minute one passed, Jeffery, one of the work directors, who has a very genuine heart, leaned over the cubicle wall, and told me I needed to turn it off and take it to the break room. I asked him if I was going to get fired, and he said he didn’t know, and I told him I was going to take that chance. He tried to convince me otherwise, but there seemed in his surprise, a hint of admiration. Work Director Mark, told me to turn it down, which I did, but then I turned it up again, and then Manager Jim told me to turn it down, and I told him I couldn’t, lamely that it was my “dream” – trying to dance all this time. I turned it down, and then back up, and he stomped away angrily, “You’re not going to turn it down then, that’s just great!”
Mind you, it was never anything like so loud, that we couldn’t speak easily to each other from a distance. Some time last week, when I was sitting at a computer out in the middle of the department for a day, all three of these guys had stood around me in my chair, while we discussed, puzzled over and tried to solve a mystery about a loan I was working on. Four adult men putting their heads together to solve a problem – it was quite enjoyable actually, and the first time I felt like I connected with these guys in a very real way. Now, it was all command and control. I heard Jim saying to someone piercingly, “You aren’t taking pictures, are you?”
The first song ended, and there was a spontaneous uproar of cheering, clapping and laughter, MUCH louder than the Bose had ever been. I leaned back, cupped my hands around my mouth and projected out, smiling, “if the apocalypse is indeed upon us…I recommend…Dancing!” and there was another round of laughter.
The second song, G.B.A, by Xavier Rudd, out of Australia, began more ominously, though it basically being about making the world a better place for kids. He cusses twice, but we’re all adults here, yes? Manager Jim had fire just about blasting out from his ears, and work director Mark stalked around giving me a look, ready to pounce. As I danced, periodically berated to turn it down, turning it down, turning it back up, I could feel the vibe darkening, and watched as people disappeared back into their atomized space, fewer and fewer looking at me. Jim finally gave up and stomped back to his desk. I continued to dance, trying to maintain my own joyous vibe, letting go as I could (I could see at least one wild haired woman intent on what I was doing, the very same “true princess“) and when the song ended, there was a depressing, cold silence.
I sat down, took off the wig, jacket and shoes, packed up the gear, and punched out for the day. I saw both Jeffery and Mark standing around Jim’s desk, so I walked there to talk to them.
“What do you need?” said Mark, hostile, ready for a fight.
“I just wanted to let you guys know, It wasn’t my intention to try to show you guys up, at all. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I realize this could get me fired, but even then, no hard feelings. I punched out for the day.”
“You’re leaving for the day?” said Mark, his hostility quite suddenly vanished.
“I think that’s best. And if I don’t hear anything tonight or tomorrow, I’ll just show up next week.” Jeffrey seemed to think that was reasonable. Meanwhile, Jim was seated at his desk on the phone, scowling at me. He got off the phone, I reiterated what I had said, for his benefit, but he scowled some more and got back on the phone without saying a word.
I walked back to the break room, sat down somewhat stunned, and then prepared as if I might have to walk home, as the bus would not arrive for another 90 minutes. Mostly packed, I picked up my long underwear pants, and began walking to the bathroom.
As soon as I walked out of the break room, I saw both work directors walking down the main aisle toward me. Mark said, “hold on right there,” and I stopped, standing there with my long underwear in my hand. They rounded the corner, a woman with them, who I immediately saw by her badge, was none other than the vaunted Sheila, head dept-manager Bob’s boss, the same dragon lady who I have criticized in this blog, who I never have met, who I have been told, “never look her in the eye.”
Looking her in the eye, smiling, all three people before me prepared for a fight, she says to me, quite calmly but with the slightest edge, “Ok, what you did, you disturbed the other staff. Are you waiting for the bus?”
“I was; thinking about walking home maybe too.”
“Well we can escort you out, or I can call security.”
I laughed softly and shook my head and smiled. “That won’t be necessary; but, um, would it be ok if I slip into the bathroom for a second, and put on my long underwear?” which I was holding out in front of me in my hand, and I’m pretty sure all three of them, even dragon lady, giggled.
When I came back, dragon lady was gone, replaced by Lanni, my contact at the temp agency. She got there quick. “Hi Lanni!” I said. “So this is it, my last day at big bank?” Mark pointed at my badge, and I said, “I still need to be able to get out of the building,” and made a gesture smiling, as if to keep it, and it got awkward for a second, though not in any harsh way, Mark almost apologizing at that point. “I tried to do a good job while I was here,” I said, and Jeffery and Lanni esp. seemed to agree that I had. “I just have a very real antipathy toward big bank,” and then I wished them a happy holidays and Dec 21, Solstice, and they walked me to the door. On the way out through the revolving gate, Mark’s goodbye was loudest, out of all proportion.
Outside the gate in the stairwell, Lanni told me she had received a phone call and raced from downtown to protect her employee.
I hypothesized out loud, laughing, faux serious, “There is a lunatic dancing in an orange wig, and he’s yours. Come retrieve him.” She hadn’t heard the actual story, so I explained, briefly.
“Well that’s relieving,” she said. “Usually when people leave like this there is a lot of acrimony, shouting. You just made me laugh. After a pause, “Are you Ok?” She seemed genuinely concerned.
“I’m doing great,” and then I lied a little bit, saying that this work is “not what I am here to do.”
“When you think about it, all I was doing was dancing.” I explained the costume and how I danced outside the Halloween stores I managed. She asked about the songs. She said some people here at big bank are on edge, in lock-down mode, understandably, that she’s noticed that, everywhere she manages temp employees. She said if she hadn’t been able to come down to get me, they were going to call the police. I said thanks for showin up (though that would have been interesting. Hi Guys!), and then we said goodbye.
“Hey, it’s almost the Apocalypse, right?” I said, by way of alluding to the weirdness of it all.
She had a faraway look then, “Oh right, when is that?”
“Tomorrow.” As I started toward the door.
She turned away, but turned back. “You don’t really think the world is going to end, do you.”
“Nope,” I said, smiling, and walked out the door, seven miles home, on the heels of a Midwestern snow storm.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Looking back, my only regret is that I wasn’t singing softly on my way out of the department, the first verse from the Blind Melon song “No Rain”:
All I can say is that my life is pretty plain,
I like watchin’ the puddles gather rain.
And all I can do, is just pour some tea for two
And speak my point of view, cause it’s not sa-aane
It’s not sa-aa-aaa-aane…
That, and I guess, when Sheila walked up, I didn’t say, “Hi Sheila! We finally meet!”
There was video. My sweet friend Shelly, who I have also defended in this blog, like a true champ, pulled up a chair, right up front and got comfortable, with her phone. They chased her back to her seat, by the end of the first song, and I’m not really sure, but she may have been the one Jim interrogated about taking pictures. I called twice and she checked in by email, I asked if it would be ok with her if I posted the video here. She didn’t reply until 3:42 this morning, saying that she learned it was security policy at big bank, no pictures or video, so she deleted it. I’m kind of crushed about that. But it’s ok I guess, and there were a lot of smart phones in that space so perhaps there is a video floating around the internet somewhere. Perhaps I could petition the NSA for a copy. LOL.
Which is funny too, when I first conceived of this idea, about an announcement, it certainly wasn’t then about getting “term’d” by big bank. It was more personal, about how all I really want to do is dance around the world in an orange afro. There’s a lot more to it than that, but no room now to go into it, in this post. I will say, it feels confirmed for me now; not least as I sit here in the sun, drinking coffee, listening to the great advocate of Liberty, Wayne Lapierre of the NRA, like a a true capitalist/militant/fascist gun lobbyist, advocating for moral lock-down, a government database for the “mentally Ill,” and a full frontal, visibly military State even in the schools.
I didn’t anticipate the command and control response I got, in the specifics. I figured there was a strong chance they would fire me. I thought though, they’d just let me do my thing and then fire me. Oh well, I disarmed them, at every turn, except Jim, who is new to the job, neither of his superiors were there, and he’s got two kids, a house and a wife. The “other staff” who were the ones “disturbed,” were the regular big bank employees who could not have seen me dancing unless they came to investigate. That a djembe beat from a pot-loving starry eyed mandolin genius, a digerridoo based song about making the world a better place for kids, and a guy dancing in an orange afro wig, on a day when there had not been any work for most of us to do for several hours, would be mistaken for any of the various horsepersons of the apocalypse, shows IMHO how far gone these folks are. Though I’m sure any of them might see the error in their ways, if they would just lighten up.
To my knowledge, though, big bank has not in firing me, forgiven the mortgage payments I owe it.
So anyway, that’s what I did, at the end of the Mayan Long Count.
Adam
Discuss this article in the Epicurean Delights section of the forum
Friday morning I forgot my earbuds at home, and despaired for a moment, that I would have to spend the day foreclosing on houses, without music. The guy next to me borrowed me his. I wandered around youtube awhile, and found Fatoumata Diawara. After a bleak week, I was enchanted, in love and dancing, like I haven’t danced in awhile.
Then came a break, and I opened a new intranet window to this story
‘EVIL VISITED THIS COMMUNITY’
Sandy Hook. That was about as bleak as I felt all week.
After work I biked to my sister’s, and hung out with my 9-year-old niece before she went to her dad’s, and chased my 2-year-old (tomorrow!) nephew around the kitchen, and let him chase me, and I let him throw me around
for 45 minutes, and put him to bed, holding him a long time and singing, while his dad took a long nap.
If aliens were to stumble upon America, knowing nothing of it, but able to understand the language, in the aftermath of the Massacre at Sandy Hook, what would they make of MSM (Mainstream Media) coverage of the Massacre, with the intermittent breaks for car commercials, et al? Had those Aliens been playing with me and my nephew, they would have witnessed too, a bald shark declare that the meaning of life is MONEY, while visibly, physically repulsed by the living.
There is a thing in mathematics called a fractal, loosely described as the scale of the universe reflected in every part. Think how the structure of the atom with the electrons spinning around the proton, reflects the solar system, and how the solar system reflects the galaxy.
“Fractal is a word invented by Mandelbrot to bring together under one
heading a large class of objects that have [played] … an historical
role … in the development of pure mathematics. A great revolution of
ideas separates the classical mathematics of the 19th century from the
modern mathematics of the 20th… the revolution was forced
by the discovery of mathematical structures that did not fit the
patterns of Euclid and Newton. These new structures were regarded … as
‘pathological,’ … as a ‘gallery of monsters,’ … The mathematicians who created
the monsters regarded them as important in showing that the world of
pure mathematics contains a richness of possibilities going far beyond
the simple structures that they saw in Nature. Twentieth-century
mathematics flowered in the belief that it had transcended completely
the limitations imposed by its natural origins.
Now, as Mandelbrot
points out, … Nature has played a joke on the mathematicians. The
19th-century mathematicians may have been lacking in imagination,
but Nature was not…” – Freeman Dyson
It is easier undrstood in representation
![]()
Maybe you don’t know (sorry for you), how we humans tend to deny certain realities, trauma especially, and how denied those things tend to fester inside, and come out uncontrolled in unfortunate ways, “side ways,” warping us in the long term, harming others irrevocably. If the one is reflected in the many, and likewise, then Sandy Hook might be described as a culturally “side ways” event, caused by a release of energy we as a culture have repressed and denied, turned toxic.
Now it is the law of the land, here in America, that the Government can take any American, detain him or her, anywhere in the world, and never tell anyone where you are, or even that you have been taken, as long as you live, and forever after. Our President can offer a tear for the children in Connecticut, but not for the Children who die by his order in other countries. His Brennan gets to kill children and not kill himself, declared instead the pillar of care and concern, the administration’s “conscious”. Nary an American has ever shed a tear for the children killed by our Military Machine, in consort with industrial corporations, withdrawing resources from poor, weak countries and people globally, destabilizing those countries and their people – necessary to maintain school districts like Sandy Hook, to maintain every aspect of what America has become. Notice how we fight to maintain the tax cuts seeded to us by the Bush, who fanned the flames of endless empirical war, low now more than a decade ago.
Religion and the Word separated us from the earth, and Science cut us off from Spirit, and here we are, separate and separated, mourning. Another Sandy said it far more eruditely than I can, about what letting go into the earth and spirit means. A different Sandy ravaged recently the delusions of modernity, East Coast style.
Sandy Hook. I did see on CNN a young woman who knew Adam, whose name was Israel. She said she remembered him from school, like he was a genius, “higher than us,” she said. What is it about America, that we turn our geniuses into evil killers?
Among the mostly clueless things that have been said about Adam Lanza, I didn’t hear anyone tonight say he heard voices. I had a fugitive thought, while I was playing with my nephew, watching the news, that perhaps Adam heard voices, that told him to do what he did, and that is why those children were here, to show us what denial looks like, and that they are well taken care of where they are now, better than any parent could ever hope to. That the parent’s grief is about their loss, not the child’s. And I don’t doubt, wherever the child is, whatever it is now, it feels deeply the grief of the mother, the grief of the father, brother sister family and friend.
We’ve closed off and denied the voices. Geniuses throughout time have spoken of it, including Socrates “The favor of the gods has given me a marvelous gift, which has never left me since my childhood. It is a voice which, when it makes itself heard, deters me from what I am about to do and never urges me on.” Descartes, the godfather of scientific materialism, was visited by a daemon (or an angel) who told him the conquest of nature would come by number and measure. Perhaps it’s time we cherished those who hear voices, and listened to what they have to say, instead of demonizing the messengers, drugging them into silence, caging them institutionally, etc? Perhaps had Adam been free to speak of what was speaking to him, this would not have happened?
Anger Management
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Published on Off the Grid in Minneapolis on December 7, 2012
Discuss this article at the Epicurean Delights Smorgasbord inside the Diner
Sometimes I get so angry. Like last Thursday; I think the trigger was a Twix bar I ate after lunch. I was increasingly angry at work, through the afternoon, until I got home at 4:20 like I do every day, and puffed. I puffed alot! And I got ANGRIER; that’s never happened before!? So I went and bought some beer, and smoked some more, and cleaned my garage, and sang and danced, in preparation for this.
Which cast-iron Kodiak stove I got, for the price of a 12-pack of Michelob Golden Light. From my neighbor. Turns out he has a potentially working furnace he doesn’t want sitting in his dining room.
That should solve the heating problem, temporarily. I’m not going to pull a permit for that either.
I got angry again yesterday. We’re behind schedule, in our department at big bank, not because we are slow, but because the bulk of the work arrives at the beginning of the month, it is due in seven days and we don’t usually see much of it, until it has “aged” five days. We were asked early, to quicken our pace, in the morning “huddle.” I did, and found myself becoming increasingly histrionic about it (which may be why I sit at the most awkward, out of sight work station in the department), waiting as I am so often, for the network. Here I am, in the “morgue”, the “meathouse” of one of the largest banks in the world, asked to do more and remember more, for less return, than any job I have ever had, in the the thirty to forty sum odd jobs I have had; and oh my god, the irony, that I should be angry that I can’t audit home loans in foreclosure faster! One might imagine that the intranet/network for such a big enterprise as one of the largest banks in the world, would work better than Minneapolis city wireless at its best, but you’ld be wrong. But then, in the surreal world I now inhabit, literally half the people on the floor and all their belongings can be there on Friday, and gone including the computers, Monday, and no one else left on the floor will be overheard talking about it, this whole week.
Then at lunch yesterday, my only real friend in the department, Shelly, came to me in the lunchroom crying. Auditing a loan, and indexing electronically eight of the nine documents, she got distracted, and forgot whether or not she had imported them into the system. Thinking she was being due diligent, she imported them again. They appeared in the system as duplicates. She was given eight errors. Mind you, we can only score one good point per loan worked, which means it was like the last eight loans she audited correctly, had been counted against her. The expected threshold is 99.5% correct. Shelly would have otherwise been 100% for the month. The errors brought her down to 85%, which could take awhile for Shelly to recover from, perhaps months. (She is my friend because she is the sweetest one there, I think, and I can talk to her about whatever. Which as you might imagine, is rarely light material. LOL
I found out after lunch, they had given me three errors on one loan, for the same reason.
This sort of petty shit (the vulgar scoring process, not me caring about it) comes from outside the department, of course. The woman responsible is the same one responsible for us not being able to eat anything at our work stations, or keep any personal possessions there, and we HAVE to use the under counter keyboard trays (which rules I break daily), and black dude can wear a coat patterned in marijuana leaf (LOL), and hoodies are fine, but I can’t wear my Smartwool hat to comfort my bald noggin in the drafty cold (which rule I have kept to, though I think it’s bullshit). I mean, for fuck’s sake, we are FORECLOSING ON HOUSES. But then, I had my first fugitive fuck you you deserved it, the other day, a first loan for something like $472,000, with a “subordinate” loan of $187,000 at 9.75%, some rancho wtf other el lookitme palatial boxfortards. LOL.
Excusing myself, what?
Of course then I come home and read this guys blog. Reader beware, do not drive through Collinsville, Illinois. The police there are thieves (real pirates don’t work for Authorities.) You can bet too, if it’s happening in Collinsville, it’s happening elsewhere – out-of-state, older model vehicles, cops looking for, or planting marijuana, so they can seize the vehicle and everything in it. Such are the confiscation laws nationwide. It gets a lot uglier than that, in Griggs’ blog. Like I told a friend, who said he could see reasons for drones, for law enforcement – nothing good AT ALL can come from militarizing the police. Which has been done, and is being done, all over, by the Fedz. And if you believe this, every digital communication you ever send from this point on, will be recorded and stored, so that, should you find yourself at odds with the government for any reason, they can download your digital communication history, and use it in the way that people wield such power. I will say though, the fact that Minneapolis just hired our first gay female police chief, assuming she isn’t just another protector of the brotherhood, and the fact that Minnesota didn’t alter its Constitution for the sake of gay baiting, is a sign that Minnesotans haven’t entirely lost their minds.
I mean, aside from the fact that it’s still legal in this state for the police to come in my house and take my house from me, because I smoke marijuana. Meanwhile the Fedz and SaviorO are conspiring a show of force, against the states Washington and Colorado, to make it clear who is king and who cannot smoke pot. Meanwhile, the State’s legislatures conspiring behind the scenes, an economic coup, for the likes of ArchersDanielsMidland, Cargil, Monsanto et al (Only State licensed growers, distributors, sellers etc.)
That plant will grow just about anywhere. It is the most useful plant on the planet. But that’s the thing, and they know it intuitively. If people started growing it, and exploring it’s potential economically, as well as consciously, you would have a Revolution in no time at all. LOL.
Consider this guy, for a moment. You may find him perculiar, or not, whatever, he ran a tea house. He taught tea ceremonies. His tea house was a hub of the arts in San Francisco (until the Fedz stepped in.) And because he distributed, or didn’t, it doesn’t seem clear even after a second trial, LSD and MDNA, the State has decided to put him in federal prison for 10-15 years? Aside from the fact the guy looks like he weighs about a buck-twenty, who do you suppose he was distributing this LSD and MDNA to, if he was? Artistic people. Dancers and music makers and such. Tim Leary is reported to have said, LSD occasionally causes psychotic behavior in people who haven’t taken it. I never have, but I’ve smoked enough pot and that one shroom I took, to understand that the reason the State puts 120 lb taoist tea hosts in federal prison for 10-15 for distributing LSD and MDNA, is because IF LSD and MDNA were widely available, there would be a Revolution in no time at all, and it wouldn’t look anything like the sixties. I don’t know what it would look like, but I bet it would look a lot more reasonable about what we face as a species, and a lot more techie than you think. Just what we need right now, actually. But probably, a lot of people don’t want to get high, for all the truth that would be revealed about the situation.
Anyway, I say REVOLUTION. I say, open those gates. I say, call off the dogs. If I want to grow, distill, create whatever I want here, to explore my consciousness, to share what I have with my friends, what man anywhere, has the right to say that I cannot? As for God, God emerged from hallucinations. Which is why I don’t ask permission to put a woodstove in, or a new furnace, or to explore my consciousness. Which woodstove btw has changed the whole course of the plan for this residence. More on that to come.
Speaking of angry, I’ve been thinking a lot about the food issue. I told a friend the other day, how fun would it be to descend on a modest glass facade office building, and re-fit it, into a tiered perch (fish) farm? He agreed, that between the two of us we could probably find a couple dozen guys with various expertise, who would show up tomorrow. He asked, if I could wave a magic wand to fix the food situation, what would I do? I replied, that I would buy all land within a hundred miles of downtown Minneapolis, that is currently dedicated to industrial corn and soybean production, and I would offer it to young families and groups of people willing to live and build sustainable/solar structures on it, and grow healthy food for as many as they could, w/ zero interest loans, w/ a negative-interest incentive if they pay more each season, with forgiveness in the event of adverse weather, or extraordinary success in the way of community building.
What say you, hedge fund fuck? Computer guru philanthro egghead bee-illionaire? I know, you can come work with me in the chop shop at big bank. You can sit at the work station next to me, we can talk about reality (don’t worry, no one will hear, just about everybody is plugged in with earbuds or headsets.) You can sleep on the futon at my house. In the morning, we can bike to the bus station, maybe on my tandem; you can sit in back wearing the mad scientist wig. We’ll get drunk by the stove in my garage on weekends and talk about life. After about six months of that you might be ready to redeem yourself. Maybe. Do something meaningful with all that cash, before it’s gone.
As if on cue, about the food thing, Peter started a most fascinating thread on hydroponics, on the Doomstead Diner. Peter’s a techie genius living on the shore of a Pacific inlet, north of Vancouver Island. They see week long fogs, and there’s no road access, so fresh veggies are dear. He started experimenting, growing indoors, and I know I was amazed with what he showed us. Eggplant? Avocado? RE, Head Admin, said he’d finance a similar set-up here in the “McHovel,” as a kind of Minneapolis Chapter of the Doomstead Diner Hydroponics Project, so look for that around the equinox, this spring. It would be nice to juxtapose against the progress,and work, of the garden.
So, I don’t know. Anger can be productive sometimes. A kind of preparatory fire?
Hard to manage though, once let loose. Good to be balanced, earth, air and water.
Black Friday
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Published on Off the Grid in Minneapolis on Novemebr 23.. 21012
Discuss this article at the Epicurean Delights Smorgasboard inside the Diner
I biked the mile to the bus stop this morning, twenty degrees outside and a thirty mile-an-hour headwind, blowing snow, at six am, to discover that this post-Thanksgiving Day Friday, Black Friday, is considered a Metro Transit holiday. No bus waiting. Hmm. At first I imagined, I would bike the five miles to big bank, which I can do, even under the conditions, comfortably enough. I imagined sitting down at my computer station, firing off an email to my immediate management and the temp people, informing them precisely what I had done and what I think about that. Except for much of the journey would be on the shoulder of a four lane 55mph speed limit everybody driving 60, it snowed and rained last night, the roads are slippery, and a bike helmet, which I couldn’t find this morning anyway in a very symbolic Hmmmm, isn’t going to protect me from a 2000+ lbs projectile moving at six or eight times the speed I am, bearing down on me from behind. By the time I got half way home, which is on the way to big bank from the bus station, I was like, that’s fucking crazy. No WAY am I biking that, and no way am I putting someone else out, on a day that just about everybody thinks is a holiday (judging by the lack of automobile traffic as I write this), so I can go and FORECLOSE ON HOUSES FOR UBER_BANK_LEVIATHAN-KRAKEN. LOL.
So I got home, and called the automated overseer computer lady at big bank, and spoke the words, “William Duncan, Kodi {manager}, 7am MONDAY,” in reference to the time I would be returning to work. I left a voicemail with my contact at the temp agency, and sent an email to the top two managers in my department. It’s a liberty, what I’ve done, relative to my station. Still, I don’t expect any push back. If I even hear about it, I’ll be surprised, though it is strictly speaking, grounds for me to be dis-invited, to work for big bank.
It’s not like I’m going shopping. Nor am I going to sit around smoke pot get drunk chow left-over Thanksgiving dinner watch Tee-Vee. It’s not even very comfortable in my house, when it’s this cold, with the wind blowing hard. Mostly, aside from drinking coffee writing blog posts researching, I will be working, insulating the house, which is a drafty sieve. Lots of work to do, here. Might get a buzz on too, eventually.
If I lose the job, which is a possibility, I’ll just tell the temp agency, listen, if big bank doesn’t take me back, I’ll write an op-ed in the straightest, most conventional clear easy to understand language I can muster, for one of the local MSM newsprint outlets, about the arrangement as it stands, in its full absurdity. I mean really, there are people expected to work the second shift starting at 3:30 pm, Monday, Christmas Eve Day, FORECLOSING ON HOUSES! Maybe they want to, but it’s also like a threat of economic dissolution otherwise, and really when you are a “butt’s in seats in the morgue, or the meat-house,” a day off is also one less day of pay, when we are making about $7 LESS than the average American wage. Which is kind a of low grade terror, this sort of economic hegemony exercised with such ruthless, numerical logic. Which then calls into question the whole War on Terror, when, if you dare not participate in the making of dollars in the imperial way prescribed, you are fucked. Get with the fucking program?
It’s not like I’m a weak performer, either. My numbers are solid, in their metric. 100% accuracy, in my last review. There is a threshold one must reach, in sheer numbers, before one is eligible for overtime, which I crossed some time ago, though I have not partaken of the so-called fruit (nor have I striven to do more, necessarily.) They can fire me, but if they do, I’m going to do what I can to return the favor.
Meanwhile, the bulk of America shops. I was at my sister’s yesterday, consuming tee-vee programming. Whether it was that or the industrial food she fed me, I can’t say was the cause of my ill stomach. It was more like soul sadness, in the presence of such grotesqurie’, as was splashed across my cerebral cortex, with such cynical abandon. In my last post, I said I am not a “moral” man. Do not mistake that for moral relativity, which Americans display with monstrous pride. On one Newz program, a woman was interviewed about her attack plan, shopping today. She advocated teamwork, with everyone with a plan of operation, “otherwise you won’t get everything you need.” She bought seven flat-screen tv’s Black Friday 2011, most of which remain in the boxes. She was presented as an ideal of normality by the network, which she is, in America. We scoff at the savages, those responsible in the past for human sacrifice to placate the gods. By how many orders of magnitude worse, all those who have died that we might be free to shop – what is being done to the earth, to fulfill our “needs”?
My sister said she had been made to feel guilty for doing damage to the “environment”, because she had ordered some product on-line, instead of in a store. The rationale, that those things ordered online travel more miles, than they would if they were housed in a centralized retail box. I laughed and asked her how long she thought 7 billion people could continue buying the resources of the earth transformed into consumer product to be thrown away as garbage, esp. when we are adding 200,000 people a day, globally? I didn’t ask, but I’m guessing, she bought the turkey at Sam’s Club, and most everything else for dinner besides. She gets it, the madness of it, she just can’t imagine any other way, or won’t.
I recognize too, the slippery slope I am on, justifying my work at big bank at all, in any way. Perhaps after Black Friday 2012, I will no longer have to.
This is what my lightning bug niece and I did Thanksgiving. It’s hard to see her wings, but they are there. The bike, a gift from RE, head Admin at the Doomstead Diner
Hypocrisy
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Published on Off the Grid in Minneapolis on November 20, 2012
Discuss this article at the Epicurean Delights Smorgasbord inside the Diner
Last winter, living without a working furnace or income, I was ready to fix up this house and sell it. I was going to sell it, and go to dance in the wheat fields of England, to call down a sign, or call out the ones who do it. From there, to the Big Island of Hawaii, to walk around it, up to Dec 21. From there, wherever, perhaps deep in the amazon, in search of Ayahuasca and Strophoria cubensis.
Spring came, and I fell in love with the garden again, and I planted fruit trees. I started the work on the house, which went well up to a point, when I lost any energy for it, after a series of arguments with my father, who shares the mortgage on the house, and has been paying on it the last four years. I walked away from the house, longtime readers, and readers of my books, will recall, during the fall of 2008. I was hardly aware of the financial collapse, as I was in love, and recovering from Lyme disease. I lived with that woman and her kids, in Northern California and Wisconsin, the following two years, when we broke off the relationship and I returned to this house, which had been unoccupied all that time. That is when I started this blog, and expanded the garden. By mid-summer this year, it was clear to me that the house was not saleable to anyone but a speculator at a house-flipper price in a depressed market; and the garden had become like an enchanted place.
I couldn’t go another winter without taking on the mortgage payment, and the Halloween store I managed in the fall of 2010 and 2011, had been sold to a buyer out-of-state, so I had to go looking for a job, which I haven’t had, a nine-to-five or simulacrum, in four years, other than the Halloween store. I applied for about thirty jobs, went to one interview that didn’t go well, skipped a dead-end one. The third interview, I almost skipped; which turned out to be serendipitous, and I am not one to ignore serendipity. They were vague, and somewhat cagey about the job, it being a high-class temp agency, but I would be working for a big bank, which I knew would make my father happy, and I could get there by bus after a one mile bike ride, in about 50 minutes after leaving my house. Not owning a car, and not wanting one, that was a positive (some people at big bank bus two hours each way.) It occurred to me though, the evening after the interview, restless in bed, that I might have been hired to foreclose on houses.
There was a three week gap between the time I was hired, and the start date. During that time, every single person I talked to about my concern, to a one, said, “it’s a job.” Not one person shared my concern, and while some of the people I spoke with are conventional, the majority are not. I was surprised. But then I am dubious about the vast majority of jobs. No one seemed very perturbed by the fact that I would be making less than I had been by the hour, working for my friend Organic Bob moving dirt around and landscaping, less than half I was making at that corporate job I had at the Behemoth in 2008, and only 25% what I was making during the housing boom, remodeling houses.
The DREAM JOB I had been angling for, I failed to be interviewed for, despite that I had a friend advocating for me inside. This, I chalk up to the fact that I failed to pursue the Masters and Doctorate I was being pushed to pursue by my Teachers, back in 2000, but I saw that I would be a fifth-tier Doctor with $150,000 in debt at 40, and besides, I felt the call of the wild. Too wild now, for a scholastic job writing and editing articles about solutions to environmental problems, evidently. So I took the one job I was offered, at big bank.
My concern was confirmed as accurate, day one, within ninety minutes. The trainer said the loans we would be working on were in default, that no one was living in those houses, that we would not be foreclosing on people. I liked him, and still do, but I suspected then and suspect now there is no reason to believe at all, that there aren’t people in the houses on the loans we are foreclosing on. For myself, since then, every weekday but Veteran’s Day, I awoke at five am to foreclose on houses for eight hours, to return home just under twelve hours later. The work has since proven to be more like prison work, than any job I’ve had, and I’ve worked in a foundry, and on 0-180 degree Fahrenheit flat roofs, roofing. My work now is to audit hundreds of on-line mortgage documents each day, most for loans that should never have been issued.
Still, the job has been a blessing in some ways. I’m paying the mortgage again, and I’m able to put money into the house, and the various projects around the garden I’ve long imagined, but had no resources or means to bring into being. The job may be set up like prison work, but there are no petty tyrants, none I have to deal with anyway. In fact, the people I work for directly are very reasonable, and the people I work with are like most people, mostly good. I’ve been able to listen to about 200 hours of old Terence Mckenna recordings. The job has also been a strong lesson in how wrong the housing bubble was for America, and how much fault does rest in average Americans, taking out loans that could only be paid off if the economy were to grow by 5%+ every year for the next several decades, and maybe not even then, with the systematic downward thrust of average wages, and decreasing good-paying jobs, climate change, resource constraints, et al. That, and a clear picture of how un-enlightened big bank is, as if the work I do is fit for humans. We are called “butts in seats, in the meat locker, or the morgue,” I hear, trickling down from above. That may not sound like a blessing, those last two lines, but ever have I tried to pull back the veil of the ruling paradigm.
Not everyone is enamored of my work there. This is what one reader had to say, on the thread dedicated to this blog, in the Doomstead Diner, for members of the forum:
“Sorry, but IMHO working for one of the four big wall street banks is one of the most morally degrading things you can do at this time. Helping them instead of working to put them out of business? Being complicit with them is being complicit with what is wrong at the core. Anything but that. What is this called, ” cognitive dissonance”? What is the use of saying or doing anything if you are going to do that?”
Another had this to say:
“you’re a dime-a-dozen sellout but you’re a first-rate poser. you’re a stain on this place.”
My role at big bank is one rung on a ladder as long as a DNA strand, though unlike DNA, those at each rung are largely ignorant of every other. It is a perfectly bureaucratic structure, big bank, though it ostensibly be a “private” business. It should also be said, big bank isn’t “private”, as it is sustained by free money from the Federal Reserve, which is socializing loses and privatizing the gains, at least until they destroy the dollar. The structure exists as it does, to provide plausible deny-ability for it’s employees, giving them only the most scant responsibility for what is going on – just like every hierarchical Institution everywhere. Were we ever in contact with the actual “borrowers” whose loans we audit, the system wouldn’t work, because that would be humanizing the work. As is, it is almost devoid, the process, of anything even resembling “humanity.” And as you might imagine, most people working there show a singular lack of awareness about any of the deeper realities I try to elucidate in this blog.
Which, speaking of a lack of humanity, would the commenter’s quoted above, feel free to walk into my department and declare such things before the throng? Of the 70+ people working in my department, about 20% are white. Predominant are people of African and Asian origin, first or second generation, and African-Americans. I am struck by the number of pictures of young children on computer screen-savers and backgrounds. Is it merely my knowledge that makes me a hypocrite, a sell-out and first rate poser? If so, what are these others, in their work-a-day ignorance in service to their families, in their culpability to the American dream made possible by vile imperialism?
When I was working as a manager of a Halloween store, I commented at length in this blog, and in my second book, on cheap Chinese crap, and the un-sustainability of crass American consumerism. When I was asked if I wanted to work in a Halloween store, by an old college friend, I said without hesitation, “fuck no!” At the time, I had just returned to Minneapolis, after Wisconsin, I had $80 and no job prospects of any kind. Immediately after that, I thought, he just offered me a job, I haven’t seen him in five years, and I’ve been waiting for a sign. Working there, aside from being fun, and exhausting, made me not one whit more enamored of consumerism, not one whit less honest about what I think about it’s prospects. Indeed, I have come to think of consumerism as a death-cult.
I am not a “moral” man. “Morality”, such as it’s practitioners hold forth righteously upon, is generally a construct over-laid reality, per-suppossing humans are inherently evil otherwise, or mere animals who would immediately proceed to consume each other, without said righteous tight asses lording over us. Whereas, I believe humans to a one, are profound, divine, innately good beings, inherently corrupted by degrees, by the cultural paradigms, morals, ideologies, dogmas, pollutants, programs and pogroms, designed to control life, for the benefit of the few at the expense of ALL. Not being a “moral” man, I am not restrained by absolutist rigidity, which both commenters above show in spades, IMHO, even though theirs is a minority opinion culturally, about things generally. Nuance, being a thing of truer understanding.
As for me having a “truer” understanding, I have also come to believe, that not a one of us on earth has anything like a “true” understanding, of what this life is really all about, though there are no shortage of people who claim to, be they hiding behind a gun, or bizness or gov or Religion or ideology or money or plain ol’ vitriol. Here is some of my response, on the Diner.
I guestimate that of all the loans I’ve seen, about 80% of them were loans in excess of $300,000. I wade through the wreckage of greed mostly. How do I justify it? I am trying to do right by my house, which I like to say I bought twelve minutes before the market collapsed, and I’m still around really only because my niece and nephew live only a mile away. My entire life top to bottom is paradox, and you are free to make of me any kind of villain you like.
~~~~~~~~
IMHO, I am exactly where I need to be, to accomplish the things I imagine. Think of it as an alchemical transmutation, wading through the economic wreckage as I am, reporting on my experience, to bring beauty and love into being?
You might have some faith in me. I’m not asking much.
~~~~~~~~
I would be a hypocrite if I did not document publicly, the things I do, and what I think about that, for free. I have two books available for free on my website, www.WilliamHunterDuncan.com. Also a novel I was working on until I was offered my current employment. I’ve written in my blog and one of my books, about planting marijuana on Federal, State and County land, here in the Twin Cities. I aim to live and write with integrity. I am the peace pirate Sir Vis, in service to the Goddess, former manager of the coolest Halloween store in the Midwest, who now finds himself under a mortgage ostensibly owned by the same big bank he now astoundingly finds himself working for, wading through the wreckage of the housing market. Meanwhile, learning skills that will be useful when big bank and the others like them fall. Which they will, as inevitably as the sun will rise tomorrow. Probably not tonight, but soon, very likely.
What possesses you to play the role [the commenter of the second comment listed] you do here, I don’t know. We share a great deal, in our view of the world. You are on the right track about something though. Now is not a time for fearfulness. Terence Mckenna said, when asked what to do in the face of teotwawki, “flood the world with ART.” Which is what I think about my writing, my garden, the things I build, and my life generally. And why I keep telling myself to follow through with the plan I see, to put together a band. Because what could be more important at the end of the world, than a joyful sound?
Thus I make no claims about the “morality” of what I do. Indeed, as to the actual work at big bank, there is nothing particularly honorable, interesting, or empowering about it. It is merely where I find myself, at this time, making the best of it, not to waste the opportunity.
And you, dear readers, are free to trust me, or make whatever judgement you like, however harsh. Though I don’t recommend harsh moral rigidity as a way of being. Rather, I would have you embrace the mystery, of this very curious life, joyously, wherever you find yourself.
Work, Life, Contemplation and Change
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Published on Off the Grid in Minneapolis on November 11, 2012
Discuss this article at the Epicurean Delights Smorgasbord inside the Diner
Winter arrives tonight here in Minnesota, in a hard way. Temperatures are expected to fall throughout the day, below freezing, with temperatures remaining below freezing through tomorrow, as low as 18 degrees. That will be a test of how well my oil filled electric radiators heat the house. I have two, one in the kitchen and another in the bathroom, heating the bedroom also, which is less than half the house. My furnace is broken and I have neither the money nor the inclination to fix it. I would certainly like to rip out all those forced-air steel vents in the basement, I’ve hit my head on a hundred times. I could buy a nice woodstove from a friend for $200, and install it myself for about $250-300, but the stove is not catalytic, which means it isn’t designed to burn off most of the particulate, which is not a solution in the city; also as I do not have access to a wood lot. Though I could arrange with a tree trimming crew, to have more than enough wood dropped in my driveway, for free. A catalytic wood heater connected to a radiant water system which I would rarely use because the house itself would be solar radiant, would be ideal.
Back into the 40′s and 50′s next week, so no worries. Heating half the house with two oil heaters, cost about $40 last month. If I tried to heat the whole house, which is in mid-repair and a heat sieve, it would cost me $200+. Assuming winter comes, even the climate being uncertain. My neighbor across the alley, a good Christian who I have never known to question authority in any meaningful way, remarked to me about it yesterday, unprovoked, in evident concern, while I was working on my new driveway. Much of the aggressiveness I have endured from the city, the last several years, about my garden, I suspect has arisen from complaints from him. The lack of attention I have received from the city in the last year, has coincided with his evolution in thinking about my garden, in part as a direct result of his awareness of radical changes in weather patterns. He is a hunter, fisherman and gardener.
My new driveway is made of antique Purrington pavers, 9 lbs each, originally, likely, paving stones for a road, here in Minneapolis, which were removed at some point to my sisters driveway, before it was hers. She has never parked on the driveway, which she has only ever used to grow soil on, by neglect. You couldn’t see them; there was an inch of soil and weeds covering them. I asked her if I could buy them; she gave them to me. I stacked them up, rented a truck and paid my friend Jamie, a musician who lives in a rundown trailer you couldn’t move if you wanted to, $80, to help me transport the 5 tons. He only wanted $40. I bought him a snack and dinner too. I’ll have six cubic yards of class five crushed limestone dropped on my sisters driveway this week. She can grow weeds on that just as well. My father is furious, but he hasn’t been proud of anything I’ve done, since I was MVP of my high school baseball team. Except that time I shot that eight point buck. He doesn’t know either that I’ve painted my upper body green, put on faux animal pants, and danced with those horns publicly. Perhaps he will reconsider about the pavers, when he sees the driveway, the patio, and the front sidewalk to the street.
The white pine table for the patio, three feet across.
Otherwise, since I started the work on the hoop house, greenhouse, with the white pine dropped in my driveway and the work on the driveway and patio, more of my neighbors have stopped by and spoken with me in a friendly way than ever before.
My father is happy to have me working at big bank. I am happy too, insofar as the work I’ve been doing here at the house would not have happened, if not for that job. I am also astounded, at how many people in the department I work in, are eager for overtime. It is the debt they hold, I suppose. I value my time more than money. The department head, in advocating for people to work overtime so that it would not have to be imposed, said approximately, “What are you going to do otherwise? I’m just going to go home and sit in front of the television,” and many and maybe most nodded in agreement. No one seems much perturbed that we are foreclosing on houses.
I sit in my awkward corner at big bank, dancing sometimes to the global sounds on my iPod, wanting to sing, most days listening to Terence Mckenna on youtube, contemplating TEOTWAWKI. The election was encouraging to me, insofar as I was anticipating a potential hard Right turn. When you write things like the Benghazi incident is likely related to covert CIA operations having to do with Syria and al Qaida, and that Broadwell is CIA if I ever saw one, and not a bad way at all to excuse yourself from the drug money gorged, para-military, al Qaida affiliated cesspool the CIA has become, General; well, I have the sense that the GOP LOVES government when it comes to cracking down on alternative media, mindful as I am that the Obama administration has been ruthless in regard to whisleblowers, among many other things. I hadn’t anticipated a repudiation of the Republican message, with the election, such as that message has become. (The reader might be advised to not take my prognostications TOO seriously.)
Thinking such things about the world as I do, I tend to keep to myself at big bank. The work encourages it. Besides, I’m a minority white guy, and bald besides. And I’m shy. People don’t engage me much either. I’d much prefer to wear a hat and bandana, but that is against the rules. It get’s cold where I sit, and it would soften the bald nearing middle-age white guy thing. I intended to wear the orange afro and the wacky jacket, Halloween, but when I woke that day it barely occurred to me, and I couldn’t have cared less at the time, really. Though I did puff before I left the house, and closed my eyes and let go into the music on the bus. Peace pirate, Sir Vis, yet.
TEOTWAWKI. Terence Mckenna was much responsible for the mythology around Dec 21, 2012, having come to the conclusion through work with the Chinese I Ching, and a mathematical computer program he devised, that the end of time would occur that day, coming to this conclusion separate from any knowledge of the Mayan prediction. He wavered on his prediction, suggesting it could mean anything, from the destruction of the entire planet; the transformation of the entire universe; transforming ourselves somehow technologically, such that we would expand into hyperspace; to the invention of time travel; to his death merely, and we could all laugh that we believed him. Like Moses he would not see the promised land, as he died in 2000, from a deadly tumor in his brain, in the frontal cortex associated with the “third” eye. A curious end, for a mystic, particularly one so loved. In a cruel irony, his entire collection of rare books and manuscripts, and personal notes, were lost in a fire. The organization entrusted with them, Esalen, had seen fit to store them in an otherwise unoccupied office, off-site, next to a Quiznos, where the fire started – seven years after his death.
It’s interesting to me, how little I hear anymore about the Dec 21, 2012 Apocalypse meme. I had expected it to be more prominent a part of the dialogue, but it is not much at all, after all the hubub years ago. This, even as uncertainty has ramped up exponentially, with the economy, the fiscal cliff, Sandy, Benghazi, Syria, Iran, $100 barrels of oil, Fukushima, drought in the crop lands, and clear evidence for anyone who is conscious of the weather that a cycle has been broken. Even the most sanguine supporter of all things AMERICA, believes CHANGE is upon us, though notions of the how and the why are as diverse as there are people.
Terence imagined much more of a spiralling effect than we have seen. He imagined a kind of exponential condensing of Time, at which end-point we would emerge into a kind of psychedelic hyper-dimensional awareness. The kind of technological progress he imagined though doesn’t seem to have come to pass; more it seems to me, we are seeing the global industrial machine grinding to a halt, and many of our techno-dreams with it, because of oil constraints, weather, population growth and too much debt. I don’t think Terence was wrong, necessarily, and his psychedelic research and reporting on it has been invaluable to me, to sort things out; I just think maybe his psychedelic dimensional travels caused him to underestimate the staying power of the material universe, maybe.
I do however believe the Mayans were about dead on with their long count calender, which 5,126 year cycle happens to coincide with the rise of the written Word, the Logos transcribed; and the rise of agriculture about 5,126 year before that. Those two, ag and the written word, are without peer in their effect on Homo sapien. The Logos written, the Word, leading to a paradigm of control, which now seems to be both aggravated in it’s desire, and slipping out of possible.
Notice that the definition of apocalypse is a lifting of the veil. What veil? The veil of authority. Consider the Catholic Church, or the Boy Scouts, or Lance Armstrong, the Federal Reserve, Wall Street and the Federal Government. The stories these entities and institutions, and everything relating to them, have rested upon, are everywhere revealed to be a fraud. A fraud for what purpose? A fraud to control resources, to control nature, to maintain power and influence, to maintain BAU. A fraud feeding at the foundation of everything life depends on.
I intuit we are closing in on some kind of bifurcation point, after which normal will be turned upside down, metaphorically. What that is going to look like, I have all kinds of ideas. Anything from a comet strike, to a solar wiping-out of the global electrical grid, to a collapse of the global financial markets, to a series of nuclear strikes, to an organic or inorganic destruction of a series of off-shore oil wells, to the collapse of the Saudi royal family, to mass starvation, and on and on and on, unto a widespread collapse in belief in the current paradigm.
The Mayans don’t have the corner on cycles though. There is also the 26,000 year cycle of the rotation of the axis, the cycle of precession of the equinox. We are now in the Aeon of the zodiacal house of Pisces, the fish, associated by some with Christos. It will be another 200 years before the cycle of Aquarius, the water bearer, begins. Which I take to mean it will be another 200 years before a true healing of the waters will begin. With all the nuclear and poisons and off-shore oil wells around, how polluted we allow the waters to become remains to be seen. Perhaps enough, that there will be no human to witness the healing of the waters.
My hope is, though, the thing ultimately revealed, is that Homo sapien is a vastly more profound being than any control freak has ever lead us to believe. And the Sun and Gaia would not have spent billions of years bringing us into being in order to let us perish of our control issues.
Cycles upon cycles upon cycles of time. Change eternal. To illutrate, my black-cap raspberry vines, sans leaves:
On the Eve of the 2012 Election
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Published on Off the Grid in Minneapolis on November 6, 2012
Discuss this article at the Epicurean Delights Smorgasboard inside the Diner
Today, America elects a President. You’re a fool if you think there won’t be cheating on both sides. If you want to know about the integrity of our political system, look to Lance Armstrong. He didn’t want to win seven consecutive Tour d’ France titles, more than the American political machine wishes to maintain global hegemony. Juiced on cash and crude, prepared to treat Americans like it would any people in any country.
The Dems have a long history of cheating, but in this election my expectation is of preeminent Republican malfeasance. Not so much with the traditional Dem, mob-like stuffing of ballot boxes, but more like tinkering with the process, and maybe slowing the process. Do you expect to see liberals intimidating suburban moms? How about Tea Partiers and various paid operatives stirring up trouble in Latino and black neighborhoods? Remember too, people have been voting for awhile. Every day a vote sits around, that’s one more day for somebody to do what people will do.
Which is mostly, treat the electoral process, the nuts and bolts at the local level, with integrity. It is run remarkably well, for a thing primarily volunteer. Really, as corrupt as the Republican and Democratic Machine is, I don’t worry about cheating changing the course of this election. The political, financial, corporate, military machine that is Amerika, will continue to do what it was created to do, achieve global hegemony, regardless this election. Which is to say, the presidential vote in this election will do nothing to alter the course of empirical overshoot, and the general trend toward total State surveillance. The only thing that will prevent that, is collapse, or some kind of awakening, the American people seem ill-equpped and certainly not well enough informed to make.
“Superstorm”* Sandy I think has the potential to weaken New York in a way that 9/11 could not. There are now estimates into the hundreds of thousands, people who have been made homeless. Living so close to the sea, I think we can safely assume most of them had jobs, which they are presumably no longer doing, which is lost economic activity. It seems clear to me the estimates of the cost are grossly under-estimated. They reflect a gross estimate of rebuilding as it was. Every time I look at pics, I think, who thought it was a good idea to build all those houses on a fucking sand bar? Shall we talk about a gross misapplication of resources? I think if I were God and I heard Right-wing “Conservatives” yammering on about the great hand of God that is the Market, I’d be pissed. Any market that builds houses on a sand bar on the ocean or a river, has it’s head up its ass. Or rather, it is run by scoundrels. But don’t-ya-know, it’s gay peoples fault?
Good God the Whole Country needs to get STONED; And of course I mean, smoke pot, not throw rocks at each other.
Really, Benghazi? At this point, when there are men of think-tank level influence speaking openly about killing Americans to incite Americans to war against Iran, because they know the MSM won’t report it, which they haven’t, it is impossible to say anymore whether or not that attack in Libya was somehow facilitated directly or indirectly by the CIA, not when we know al Qaida practically is the Syria Free Army funded by America, directly or indirectly. That’s during an Obama Admin, BTW, and your an idiot or worse if you think a Repub Admin isn’t MORE likely of it. LOL. Notice, the only country where we are engaged, the mainstream media isn’t whore enough to associate with al Qaida? An American ambassador died by ambush and they don’t say it was al Qaida! After 9/11, it was like 24 hours. Ad infini-dumb-dumb/ad nauseum for a fucking decade.
The great tragedy of this election for me, is the failure of Americans to recognize, that growth, as our economy has come to depend on it, is at an end. And that is having profound ramifications, and we are pointing our fingers at everything but reality. We are not having an adult conversation about what seven billion people adding 80 Billion people every year, MEANS on a finite planet. GOOD GOD, how infantile the message, lower taxes to generate growth/tax the rich. What has the message given us? Sandy! Billionaire Hedge Fund managers who don’t pay taxes, indistinguishability between Treasury/FED/Wall Street, a grotesquely inflated people physically and economically dependent on a grotesquely inflated State, a hundred million yearly prescriptions for anti-depressants, kids drugged with pharmaceuticals by their parents and people in jail and disenfranchised for smoking the flower of the most useful plant on the planet.
It’s likely to be a contested election, one way or the other. How contested depends on many other factors, not least the progress on the east coast. That nor-easter portends ill. It might be a thing for the nation to rally around beforehand, but it’s almost election day as I write this, and I assume the storm will have begun to hit by then. Consider the rest of November, a languishing relief effort in the east as the nation rages about a contested election. I admit I hesitate to imagine a republican controlled Congress and the presidency (much because the so-called Republicans are controlled by maniacs,) though I console myself that the party would probably be faced with the choice of preventing the 2014 election from happening, and being destroyed politically as a Party forever, but of course that is not really a choice. More, it looks like a Dem Senate, Repub Congress and maybe, eventually, a Repub Prez. Or Obama. Which means more gridlock, as we muddle our way along the seemingly spiral path of industrial dissolution.
(It’s useful I think, to think about the spiral, when faced with the anxiety inevitable, contemplating TEOTWAWKI. The square, rigid world we have built won’t withstand THAT spiral. Best to think about flow.)
Who am I voting for? Mostly I’m voting against my state Minnesota tending toward control, against the marriage and ID-Voter red herrings. For Prez, I’m going to vote for Jill Stein. Partly because I don’t expect the office of the President will ever be inflicted upon her, but mostly because she was arrested bringing sustenance, treats and attention to the sitters, protecting the earth and the land, preventing the dozing of the Keystone II pipeline right-of-way that isn’t yet supposedly a done deal.
Because this election should be about a choice. And really that isn’t so much about a choice, as a conversation, about the fact that any further thrust of the current economic paradigm, of the kind of progress we have grown accustomed to, depends on destroying much of what remains of the vitality of the earth and the biosphere, and only seems to feed the attitude of CONTROL.
* If Spiral Theory is correct, then one might expect to think of Sandy as a pale precursor of what is to be come, climate-wise.
222
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Published on Off the Grid in Minneapolis on October 24, 2012
Discuss this article at the Epicurean Delights Smorgasbord inside the Diner
This is my 222nd post. Adding the numbers of my name numerologically, they add up to 222.
What to say?
First, I guess I needed a month off. Shortly after the jubilation of my last post, there was a personnel shift at big bank, and I was moved to the coldest, draftiest, most awkward corner in the building. I had been surrounded by seven women; I now have grey cubical walls within arms reach on three sides. A reminder, I guess, not to stand out too much, not to enjoy myself while I work, maybe. That, and all the romantic ideas I sort-of hinted at in my last post, have collapsed in the reality of the generally weird idiosyncratic chaos of my life, including that furnace friend couldn’t fix the furnace, so I’m heading into my third winter in a cold house. (Who do you ask on a date anyway, when you don’t own a vehicle?) It’s also harvest time, and there are many projects in the garden. The garden is very beautiful still, so I’m outside as much as I can be. There was also a stairs I built for a maiden, mother and crone. Anyway, I’m back.
What was going on a month ago? I suppose that was about the time of the first VICE-prez debate. How about this election! What’s weirder than half of American voters, about to elect a vulture capitalist President? That about half of that half two years from now are going to be poorer for it? Though based on Ro-Money they might be angling for jobs driving Latinos out of the country. Or maybe working at a Walmart distribution center, living in tents and half-way houses and on the street. Though what do I know, I may have to work at big bank Monday, Christmas Eve Day, and the Friday after Thanksgiving, foreclosing on people’s houses.
Weirder I think is Ro-Money’s China talk, as if America is not afloat because China is buying Treasury bonds by the trillion, so we Americans can buy mountains of consumer crap we throw into the nearest designated incinerator or hole in the ground – so 28 members of Walton ilk are worth a billion, five or so worth $25bl+. Or maybe it’s that my radical Fundamentalist Constitutionalist Sovereign Christian mother LOVES Wal-Mart? If I do make it home for the holidays, the food will consist mostly of Wal-Mart food product, even veges grown in China.*
But then, ladies, don’t you know, if you get preggers by force, that’s the will of OMOG. Something like my work at big bank is the work of God.
Or maybe it’s that O doesn’t really want the job? If he loses, it won’t just be because America is about done with him. There have been moments in every debate, when I thought he wasn’t sure. What about you? Would you want the job? Oh great, he can continue another four years killing people every week with drone strikes, presiding over the growing domestic security State, the collapse of global financial markets, food shortages famine and die-off(?), global biological eco-illogical destruction in the name of commerce, war in Iran (apparently). Alas, he chose to fulfil a fate, though he might have given it up chosen his own and told America the truth. Existing in such a wicked web of lies and agendas and confabulation, it is impossible to imagine any truth coming out of him, that isn’t about treating Americans as if they are stupid children.
Wait a minute. The weirdest thing was hearing Ro-Money, paraphrased, “you didn’t say that? You didn’t?! You didn’t?! What did you say then!” talking as a child, as to a child, to the President of the United States of America. Or maybe it was both, their inarticulate, fumbling, empty, inauthentic language. Or maybe the media reinforcement of the stupid message.
MY work at big bank is rote enough, and I am good enough at it, that I’ve spent the past week listening to youtube streams of Terence Mckenna. That has been a blessing. Terence talked a lot about the world being made of language. The world as we know it certainly is, the debates being a pre-eminent example. To the degree that most people talk about the world they inhabit, they recite what they hear in the media. The message of the media and the candidates for Prez being tight, no ideological wiggle room there at all, really. You won’t get anything like the truth there, only the Truth as it is prescribed for you, stupid Americans.
ANyWay, here’s some truth from me,
Storable Edibles. Contrary to zombie propaganda, I’m making sure everyone knows I’m growing food.
Another place for a hoop house experimental.
Pics
A stairs for a maiden, mother and crone (crone not present on delivery) living in a condominium. The mother of whom gave me this first generational digital camera.
As if by magic, a delivery, future valkyrie or norn, or the like, I hope.
Asters, on my woodland city walk
Got rid of my cell phone yesterday. I’ll have a house phone and better internet, for $50 less a month than I’ve been paying for cell and city wireless. The Vee ry ZON people called it an upgrade.
*Both links in this piece came courtesy of JoeP.
Lately…
Off the keyboard of WHD

How much can happen in a week?
About a week ago*, I awoke to a story on NPR about organic food. Stanford University had released a study suggesting organic foods aren’t any healthier than industrial foods. I was only half shocked, as I was only partially awake.
When I walked into big bank later that morning, into the break room, BBC teevee news was reporting on a Stanford study, suggesting organic foods are no better for you than industrial foods (though I think NPR and the BBC used the word “commercial.”) That was when I felt a watershed feeling, as of the last gasping breathe of a dying paradigm. Stanford, NPR, and the BBC. The commercialism of life is officially systemic, such that no authority of any kind remains, that is not suspect of bastardizing reality.
Then an Egyptian American coptic Christian con artist, pretending to be an Israeli Jew, released a film. An American Ambassador was killed in Libya, in an attempted kidnapping (why else would the “rioters” have rushed him to a hospital while he was still alive?), and anti-America sentiment with all the vigor and all-the-more ferocity of the Arab Spring, was released, all over the world. Meanwhile, much of China is alight with anti-Japanese fire breathing, many a Japanese automobile smashed to pieces in the street, Japanese restaurants and stores trashed, Japanese compared to dogs and demons. While one of the (debatable) Americans running for President, has been making increasingly aggressive statements against Russia, Iran, Syria and China, and at least 47% of his fellow Americans. Oh yeah, Apple released the iPhone 5. QE3?
First of all, hospitals have no incentive to lower Health Care costs. In fact, they have a financial incentive to fill the hospital, just as the prisons do. Hence, there is motive built into the system to keep people fat, unhealthy, and preferably stupid. Hence, a Federal and State policy in defense of industrial food. Second, we Americans don’t get to presume we have the right to 35%+ of the world’s resources, and then get uppity about the blowback, or to blame the languishing economy on poor people. Third, that attempted kidnapping that went awry can’t be explained away with stories about radical Islam, as wretched as Fundamentalist Islam is, when the very private brain behind American foreign policy, the Council on Foreign Relations, is praising al Qaida for their support of the rebels in Syria; as in, don’t put it past the CIA to kidnap an American Ambassador, or pay al Qaida to do it, with weapons to be used in Syria, to incite Americans to war in the Middle East, to forget about the economy – when NPR, the BBC and Stanford can’t be trusted not to eviscerate the truth with mass media absurdities. Fourth, I can’t tell the difference between Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. How many Christian pastors stood up this week and defended Ro-money’s de-humanization of half the country, with the poor put to the proverbial boot? On the whole as Religions with a capital R, Christianity, Islam and Judaism strike me as hostile to women, to the weak and to life, and bent toward world domination. The old beliefs speak of a triple Goddess arising in this world as the archetype of the maiden, the mother, and the crone. Today they are all subdued by dominant visions of the One Male God (OMG), or the One Male Omniscient God (OMOG), as a triplicate tyranny in God the Father, Yahweh and Allah.
An email came through to our department Wednesday, in big bank, that there would be a managerial walk-through at 1:30, and besides not having any personal items at our computer stations, we were required to have our keyboards on our computer trays, NOT on the desk. I didn’t see the email, and no one confronted me, though I can’t be sure it won’t be counted against me that I had my backpack under the desk and my keyboard on the desk. It’s hard to imagine any of my immediate managers insisting.
This is big bank, thinking not of my comfort or health, but of orderly appearances. This is especially obtuse, this kind of oversight, as I’ve waded through two hundred and fifty different big bank proffered mortgage loans in default, the last two days. Talk about government incompetence? Say, institutional. Indeed, Government facilitated these loans I’m expected to do this one thing for, highlighting HUD settlement statements, 150 loans every day the next several days, but the banks profited, big time. Nevertheless, because I have a job to do, I cleared 100 yesterday, 150 loans today, through this stage of the process.
The largest loan of the 250 was $929,000. There were three above $700,000, about 75 today from Maryland and Virginia, above $400,000. I don’t generally feel too bad about my part until I see a loan under $200,000, the closer the loan gets to $100,000. The especially saddening ones are under $100,000, in rural areas, though the documents aren’t necessarily indicative of refinancing for a quick cash infusion, whatever the state of the debtors. On the whole, these loans do speak of a people trying to step up in class, who overshot, who got suckered into a classic bubble, according to a commercial version of the American dream. The vaunted $25 billion dollar mortgage settlement between the big banks and the State Attorney’s General, is vinyl siding and window treatments to a rotten house, a Cherrio sponge in a bucket full of sour milk. Something I may attempt to benefit from, and report on faithfully if I do, btw, as I am $50,000 under water.
For those readers who remember about my job search, an email arrived from HR, of the DREAM JOB – not just the DREAM JOB, the Job I Was Made To Do. I wasn’t deemed worthy of an interview.
I’m not surprised, nor am I wrecked about it either. Big Bank is not my first choice, but big bank is a kind of blessing in disguise, lipstick on a pig maybe, but a blessing for me now, for sure. A paycheck every week! Though my sister made more in one night serving drinks last week, than I made in my 40 hrs of service to Big Bank. That was sobering. Turns out people don’t drink less when the economy is shitty. Tough work though, hard on the body, slinging drinks. Tough I can’t imagine staring at mortgage documents years on end (though defaults are sure to continue in abundance into the forseeable future, notwithstanding the wish making of the Wall Street Journal, Bloomberg et al.) The benefits have abounded, for me; my house is cleaner than it has been in awhile, I’ve brought a lunch every day since I started, most of it from my garden, and I’m encouraged to think about orderly progress on the house and garden. There is much to do, including turning the garage into a greenhouse, tearing up more of the driveway, a paver patio by the pond, insulating boards for the windows, besides putting the garden to bed for the winter, and the full harvest of course. I get up every weekday at 5am with the alarm. I’ve economised somehow and my best dreams seem to come around 2am.
I wish I could show you pictures of my garden, though no image or series of images or words would suffice to capture the beauty of my garden, after a rain, in the twilight, in the fall. My garden is a lush, abundant, enchanted food and medicinal forest, compared to my neighbor’s consensual, bleak, burned out yards of sod. There is a spontaneous landscape artist on the corner right now (with an easel,) painting the sunflowers in the front, which stand ten feet tall, next to the equally tall broom grass, and the heavenly blue morning glory’s on the fifteen-foot, dead, spiraled lilac trunk I propped up right at the corner. Surrounded by cosmos, hyssop, New-England aster, tomatoes, cabbages, melons and sapling fruit trees.
I finished reading a book this week, called The Alphabet Versus the Goddess. Leonard Shlain’s basic premise is, five thousand years ago, everywhere in many cultures the Great Mother was supplanted by a Violent Male God, wherever there is evidence of the emergence of the written word. The word, he claims, is linear, abstract, and analytical, which is the purview of the left hemisphere of the brain, which is associated with the right side of the body. The right brain is about emotion, connection, image and sound, intuition, art and dancing. The written word literally rewired our brains to be left brain dominant, hence the imbalance in the world, the right angles, the general aggressiveness, incongruous attitudes about life, economy, the earth and universal processes. The world is in process toward re-balance, a return to wholeness and equanimity between the opposites of our being, as evidenced by the re-emergence of the image, Shlain contends. Teevee isn’t so bad, in this sense, insofar as the near universality of the image has primed the human brain toward a greater openness to right brained activity, a greater expansion in the feminine. Shlain believes we are on the verge of a golden age, in which the masculine and the feminine are in greater balance. He wrote his book in the Nineties, before 9/ll, though I don’t think he would be surprised necessarily by the resurgenge everywhere of mysogyny, whether that be fundamentalist Islam or the white male American Republican obsession with controlling the womb. Like I said, the watershed, the final thrust, of a dying paradigm.
I gave the painter a watermelon. I’ve made juice from three kinds of grapes that grow here. I’ve made salsa, and I’ve canned tomatoes and peppers. And while I have the urge to store, preeminent, or at least evident, is a desire to share. I measure the true abundance of this garden by what I will keep and what I will give away. Trusting, when I remember, that what I give will come back.
Shlain though contends, it is not to do away with the word, with Logos, with the analytical and science, but to embrace the spontaneous, life as Art and the joy of being alive, emotion, connection and the relation in every aspect to all things. Because therein arises the essence of the next stage of our evolution, the dis-illusion of duality and the unification of opposites. Arising above all out of the body, as it is a fount of universal energies, to the degree we open up to it.
*er, two. LOL
Jobz, God and the DNC
Off the Keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
This article first appeared at Off the Grid in Minneapolis.
Discuss this in the Epicurean Delights thread of the diner forum
Last week was my second, in my return to the beast, my return to another behemoth. If there is anyone out there who remembers my early days as a blogger, you might recall that at my last job under the wing of the beast, I spent part of my days on the job, blogging about the job, in a not very flattering way about the job, or the behemoth. That job was like paradise compared to my current employment; there will be no more blogging about the beast on the job. The last behemoth didn’t care much what I did, or even if I was there, as long as what they expected of me got done. This new job, if I am not a computer or a machine, big bank will force me to think and act like one. This behemoth is about breaking the spirit, in as subtle a way as is possible.
It’s the hand of God, don’t you know, that I have ended up here. The hand of God is the reason I am working for less than I make landscaping, less than half I made at that other behemoth, doing something that is entirely outside my primary skill set. I know how to take a house off the grid; I know how to grow large amounts of food; I write prolifically and well; I am good at managing people. But God apparently has said, you will stare at a computer all day and organize digital mortgage documents because my favored children made loans to people to buy houses they couldn’t afford, while imploding the global economy with those mortgages – therefore you, as my not-favored child, because you have not preyed upon your fellow humans, because you have not been greedy and have not twisted yourself in knots justifying your exploitation, shall wither as an automaton!
My one “abuse” of the clock is to read the banking “news” as proferred by big bank on it’s website. The newz can be summed up as, regulations are bad, the mysterious market heals all wounds, and shouldn’t you be happy to have a job, even if you are making half to a third of what you were making before the collapse, (even if the cost of everything important has risen or remained equal, not least of all your mortgage, assuming you still have one.) The latest scheme is to bundle big blocks of those foreclosed homes and sell them to speculators, who will rent them, or have the option to sell. Said speculator getting a far sweeter deal than Joe and Jill Schmo would. Because don’t you know you don’t have the incentive to work your ass off and justify warmongering and global exploitation, if you aren’t compelled to by a fat mortgage? I’m sure the speculators will take excellent care of the houses and the renters, at a price the market can bear (read, work your ass off and keep your mouth shut about the way God runs things.)
Meanwhile, this week like the week prior with the RNC, I stayed up past my bedtime to listen to the Democratic National Convention. I turned to NPR Tuesday evening, to catch the tail end of John Kerry pimping for war in Syria, Bill Burton of Priorities Superpac, quoting Donald Rumsfeld and analogizing Pearl Harbor, and that warmonger EJ Dionne gushing about how unlike any previous Dem convention, everybody in the mob was in sync. If you listened or watched at all you know the Dems are plenty capable of mindlessly chanting USA. For awhile listening to Michelle Obama, I remember thinking I’d prefer her as president, until I remembered that she is a lawyer too. An ace for Barack though, for sure.
Bill Clinton is an Ace too. Too bad he forgot to mention, it was during his presidency that the financial markets were deregulated. He did mention that regulations are important, and the Republicans want to go back to the way it was before the crash. Hmm…That was about the time I began to reflect on the fact, that to the extent Americans are paying attention, policy does not matter anywhere near as much as rhetoric. The Dems in their convention did an excellent job, IMHO, of telling a story that is in contrast to the Republican story (the Repubs did a horseshit job of telling theirs, which is a hard sell admittedly, it’s so goddamned mean.) The trouble is, it’s only a story, and if you don’t give a damn about the story and you actually pay attention to the policies, at the core there isn’t any fundamental difference between the parties. It’s really all about big corporate, big banks and global war.
Biden was up next, Thursday prior to Obambam. Grandpa Joe, the abider. Now, I listened to the DNC, I didn’t watch it on tee-vee. And I can tell you, without the visuals, the voice-over in the video introduction to Biden’s speech, was just plain creepy. But not as creepy as Grandpa Joe. What sort of American VP, the author of anti violence-against-women legislation no less, refers to his wife, the mother of his children, the matriarch to his grandchildren, as Kiddo, on the stage at the DNC? But that is not necessarily as creepy as a sitting American VP who goes to Jerusalem and says publicly, “It’s good to be home.” Or his professed loyalty to a president with a spine like a “ram rod.” On the whole, a speech that can be summed up as warmongering, “BOOM BOOM BOOM,” and support for carz, because don’t you know, it was the makers of carz that “put America on the map.” “No intention to downsize the American Dream,” clearly. His choked up pity party for the “fallen angels” was pure political fakery. No ace there, though his speech was far more impressive rhetoric than Romney’s, the standard bearer.
Obama is an Ace, too. A testament to his celebrity, that the much less obtrusive voice-over in his video was no less than George Clooney. Though what does it say about a sitting American president, who takes the stage to accept his party’s nomination for a second term, to the soothing sounds of Coldplay? I can imagine that was an oblique reference to O’s ice cold handling of the Bin Laden affair (and by extension, though never mentioned of course, his kill list, or his lawyerly dismantling of the Constitution.) But Coldplay are Englishmen.
“Hope has been tested,” he said. Indeed, he sounded like a practiced actor, until he got to the point about how much land he had and would open up to gas, oil and “clean coal” extraction. Though hey, he talked about renewables, and he even mentioned global warming! But then he repeated the well refuted lie about 100 years of natural gas, with emphasis. Nevertheless, the crowd was fired up! even chanting USA with intensity when he got to talkin about Osama. Though there was an ever so subtle pause in the fervor, when he talked about maintaining the strongest military the world has ever known – not long after which he reiterated America’s loyalty to Israel, and rebuked Iran. “God bless the Democratic Party.”
First of all, I’m wondering, when did the numbers 2016 and 2024, in reference to the insolvency of Medicare, become part of the lexicon? I consider myself a fairly astute observer of the newz, and I have never heard these numbers before. They were up front and center, at the DNC. And since when has this President embraced the Simpson/Bowles commission, and their deficit reduction scheme? Not at all in the first four years – he walked away from it! But now it’s what he’s been fighting for all along? I listen to these men, and I can’t help but think, this is only theatre. There is some agenda that transcends America. There is some plan that supercedes the American dream, and these men are commissioned to tell us what we want to hear, when it comes time to make a good face of it, so we continue to think we are voting for people who have ours or America’s best interest in mind.
I said last week the Dems have no soul. That would be a generalized reference to the party that has not abandoned “science”, or scientific materialism. Which is to say, the party that believes literally that we have no soul, notwithstanding what anyone in the party thinks for themselves. Though “God” was referenced in abundance at the convention, if not in the platform. As if God were any measure of the behavior of, say, the Republicans? As if proclamations about God are not mostly about justifying whatever corrupt, vicious, inhuman behavior one wishes to justify? Warmongering, for instance. Or making the poor poorer. Or treating people like automatons.
The Dems have no soul because they are as captive as any American, to the narrative of progress and growth, which is inextricably leading them to support military action in the Middle East, again. Only this time, for all the marbles. Except such a war is going to crack, nay, shatter all the marbles, destroying modernism as we know it, potentially even reducing global population by the billion, leading to an attempt at total government lock down here in America and eventually total chaos.
But wtf am I barking about? I took this job because I made a commitment to this community, and I stayed up late analyzing the message of the supposedly separate political parties, out of a sense of duty. And what has that got me? Sick. A chest infection, exactly like the one I had when I left the beast four years ago, a sickness which I haven’t had anything like, these last four years.
Labor Day Off the Grid in Minneapolis
Off the Keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
Published originally on Off the Grid in Minneapolis on September 3rd, 2012
Discuss this article at the Epicurean Delights Smorgasbord inside the Diner
Please excuse my anger last post, with that tirade at my fellow Gen Xer. Prior to that, I had been gathering Frontenac grapes at my sister’s house, for my third attempt at fermenting wine. It went well, but for the city having butchered the grape vines. They sent a letter to my sister apparently, a demand to remove the “sidewalk obstruction”; but the letter never arrived, forwarded instead to the address of a friend (who is on the mortgage but no longer lives there [not me]). The city workers or contractors could have removed the soil and weeds that have encroached twelve inches onto the sidewalk from the boulevard side, but instead they took a gas trimmer and hacked off every vine on the the side walk-side of the 100ft length of my sister’s south fence, leaving a ragged mess of shredded vines, absconding with approx 100 lbs of grapes, a week before harvest. That’s about 30 bottles of wine equivalent @ $10/ bottle, plus the $250-$350 my sister will be charged for the “work” done, or $550-$650 for grape vines hanging over a portion of a sidewalk. That’s like twice the theft – which contributed to my anger at Payl Ruan (which I will continue to call him until such time as he proves that he will not help initiate WWIII.)
Ok, I’m still a little angry.
Plus, I was contemplating a new job, working as a temp for a big bank helping to foreclose on houses, if you can believe that. I wasn’t sure what to expect. How could it possibly be, that of all the jobs I have applied for, the one entity willing to hire me, for on-going employment, is a big bank? What sort of command and control oppression could I expect to butt heads with? Besides, the past four years. my attitude has been, I don’t make appointments before 10am. I’m up and awake at 5am now, to catch a bus, to get there by seven, to work for less than I make pushing dirt around landscaping with my friend Organic Bob, less than half I was making for The Behemoth at their world headquarters, just before the collapse of 2008.
My first impression was of a cattle yard, for documents. I wasn’t quite prepared for global bank document carts, 18in wide by 4ft tall by 4ft long, on six inch wheels, all carts being made of plywood, many of which are unpainted, of which there are many, painted and not. Nor was I prepared for a socialist bureaucrat’s utopia, the most ethnically and race diverse workplace I have ever encountered, where none of the thousand (at least) people looks particularly happy, but no one looks necessarily pissed off at the world, either.
I’ve spent the last week training as an auditor, to assure the documents are in order, before they are shipped back to the “investors”, Fanny and Freddie. Wading through the wreckage of the housing debacle, in other words, is what I have been doing. I wasn’t prepared for the sheer volume either, of the $275-400,000 houses and second homes, which account for about 75-80% of the loans I’ve audited. That’s not saying there aren’t people still in the houses I am foreclosing on, but most every loan I have audited thus far, has suggested outright fraud on the part of bankers and buyers, and over-reaching on the part of buyers, or intoxication, or outright obliviousness.
It’s a curious thing. The Fed made credit cheap, the government encouraged home ownership (BUSH’s “Ownership Society,”) while agreeing to back-up at least half the mortgages (HUD, FHA, Fannie, Freddie), and then they, Fannie and Freddie, contract-hire big bank to clear the mortgages big bank signed for the fees, to tens of millions of greedy, intoxicated and outright oblivious “borrowers” (not “buyers”.)
Nor was I expecting the very warm and genuinely concerned reception, from the training staff, who made the experience a great deal more enjoyable than it might have been. Everyone I have encountered has seemed, if not particularly joyous, astute, on task, and engaged in whatever they are doing. Doing the best with what they have, basically. The command/control is more ingrained in the structure of the system, less overt. More, I sense a people coping as best they can with command/control directives trickling down from above, which are what they are and are tolerable at least. If it was an overt command/control environment, people yelling and domineering, the work would be intolerable. As is, the work lends well to letting go into the task, to get one’s small part in the greater whole done, on time, and done well, depending on how much one wants to hold onto the job, or move into something more enjoyable/less exhausting than whatever one is doing now. We all show at least some mastery over technology, and/or ourselves; we even have a certain contempt for the technology. It’s not as fast as we are; it lags. Big Bank loses more money cumulatively, by far, from slow-ass technology that makes us sit and wait to get done what we are ready and want to get done, than Big Bank would lose if they just trusted us to do the work we are contracted and hired to do, and worried less about tracking us minute by minute.
Head trainer offered us copious amounts of cheap candy to keep us awake, and to lighten the mood, and to make the onslaught of information more palatable, during the training. I let go of my general prohibition on High Fructose Corn Syrup and gorged, while I consumed an extraordinary (for me) amount of coffee, to cope with the massive amount of technical information, and the early morning shift, which has been less a challenge than sitting in a room all day every day with a dozen other of the same humans. I brought veggies from the garden on Friday, a kind of cornucopia, which was well received. I’m optimistic about my immediate future at big bank, notwithstanding how I feel about modern economics generally.
Meanwhile I was listening to the Republican National Convention, on the radio. From about 8pm-close, approx, all three nights. About as much as I could stand. Which makes me a patriot, comparative to the majority of my fellow Americans. Of Ann ro-Money I can only say, I cannot listen to a word that flows from your mouth without juxtaposing, that you brought your horse to the London Olympics. I listened to Payl Ruan’s speech (I wonder what AC/DC and Led Zepplin have to say about being appropriated into the Republican war machine?) I hear many people (in the media) talking about the speech by Mill ro-Money, without saying anything (I found the incessant breathlessness of the final syllable of just about every phrase to be nauseating.) The only speech that really mattered, came from Condoleezza Rice. The elder stateswoman, the Republican Party rock star, speaking directly to the narrative, that the path forward is war in Syria and Iran, and conflict with Russia and China.
(Of particular interest, the narrative encapsulated, 1:35-3:40)
Mill confirmed it, with his attempt to initiate another cold war with Putin, so Mill could show some “backbone”, giving Putin exactly what Putin needs to regain power, to incite the Russian people against the West. Apparently the terrorism bit is wearing thin, so it’s time to ratchet down on some old rivalries.
Where is the media on this? No less than EJ Dionne of the Washington Post, claimed on NPR that neither Condelezza nor ro-Money even spoke about foreign policy! What sort of fukitol pharmaceuticals is everybody on, that almost no one seems able to ascertain the meaning of anything anymore? Or maybe EJ’s admiration of Condolezza Rice is a sign that he’s just a warmonger too?
That speech by Condolezza Rice was crafted in the very bowels of the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR). There is no economic policy, there is only war. Which is exactly what ro-Money, or Obama, will initiate.
The American people are being asked to dispense with their medicare, social security and safety net, to finance tax cuts for the wealthy so the wealthy can wage and profit from global war. ro-Money claims the potential to create 12 million jobs, in four years. I think he will, in an effort to prosecute the war, and expand the surveillance state; while another 15-20 million jobs are lost, in the debauchery – or the racket – of war, and the reality of declining resources.
The creepiest moment of the convention, by far*, was the mob. When ro-Money mocked O for his claim to want to prevent the rising of the seas, the crowd cackled, maniacally. When ro-Money accused O of wanting to heal the earth, the mob cackled deeper. Followed closely by, after a lie about America and dictators, the most intense chant of U. S. A. of the convention. And then the call to war against Putin. The rest of the world must shiver. I certainly did.
(A particularly enlightening sequence, 31:30-34:30)
There will be NO healing of the earth in a ro-Money presidency. There will only be chants to prevent the rising of the sea. Chants to incite global Armageddon.
Even the Outlaw Josey Wales called it out, that we might want to remember the ten years lost in Iraq and Afghanistan, in a faux conversation with Obama.
(4:45-5:18. Sorry I’m not skilled enough yet to generate the clip.)
In what otherwise might have been construed as a speech whoring for warmongers. Josey, of course, has nothing on Condoleezza. “Aunt Tomasina” is too kind.
But such an extreme statement is meant to elucidate the severity of the situation. Global war is being crafted. Troops and supporters are being incited.
Know, that such a path can only end in ruin. Which we seem to be walking into as greedily and obliviously as we did the housing debacle. And in the aftermath people will ask how did that happen?
I’m not going to participate this time, like I did buying this house at the peak of the boom. Hopefully though, me and my fruit trees and gardens will still be around when it’s time to clean up the wreckage of global war mongering. I really hope Americans are not that dumb.
Though at least the Republicans have a soul, as twisted as it is. They can talk about love without visibly flinching. Dems are comparatively soulless. More on that and the new job, this week.
*Though I seem to recall something from a video montage preceding Mill ro-Money’s speech, of which I have not been able to find corroborating video, Mill uttering the words, about Ann, “Oh baby,”…
Geotectonic Ocean Heat Transfer – A Critique
Off the keyboard of William Hunter Duncan
First published @ Off The Grid In Minneapolis
Discuss this at the Geological & Cosmological Events Table inside the Diner
No new news to make for Job Search Part 3 yet, so I though I might delve into the meaning of it ALL, if you will. A new hypothesis has me thinking about that – it’s called Geotectonic Ocean Heat Transfer, put forth by RE, the main Admin at the website Doomstead Diner.
The last twenty years, earthquake and volcanic activity has been on the rise, markedly. If you know anything about the exponential function and how that relates to the currency, to population, to resource extraction and use, well, if you look at a graph of aggregate, global earthquake activity the last 40 years, you see a similar growth curve.
http://research.dlindquist.com/quake/historical/?mag=0&type=strength&freq=year&s\
tyle=nonlinear
That’s strange, don’t you think? It’s one thing to point to carbon emissions, or oil use, or water extraction, and say we have caused that. But when you realize one sizable earthquake might contain the energy equivalent of a few dozen or hundred nuclear bombs, and there are thousands upon thousands of quakes every year, it is beyond absurd to say humans have caused that (unless you are willing to attribute sentience to Gaia, the earth, in which case she might be supremely pissed off, at the aggregate behavior of her arrogant offspring, and has decided to shake things up a bit?)
What is so striking about this hypothesis, is that most earthquake and volcanic activity takes place below the sea, which, as it turns out, is warming faster than the atmosphere. The ocean is one giant heat sink, and it is simply wrong to suggest heating thin air would in turn heat dense water faster than the air is being heated. It does not appear there is any increase in solar output, that might be a contributing factor to the warming oceans. Instead, the hypothesis goes, it is increased tectonic activity below the sea, that is contributing not just to the warming oceans, but consequently, to climate change.

Notice in these graphs, how the early nineties saw a radical increase in earthquake strength overall, and heat content in the oceans. That would seem to contradict the standard model of climate change, which is called Anthropogenic. To date, about 98% of climate scientists are certain humans are to blame, with our burning of fossil fuels in the rampant way that we do. The other 2% are generally fundamentalist Christians who cannot believe, and paid-for corporate shills who won’t. The problem of course is, anytime 98% of any group believe the same thing, when that thing is of great import, that’s called orthodoxy; getting the orthodox to accept or even entertain anything, however factual, that might suggest a flaw in the core belief, is damn near impossible (see aforementioned Christians.)
The Geotectonic Ocean Heat Transfer hypothesis does not in fact contradict ACC (Anthropocentric Climate Change). Whatever is happening to the climate, we are certainly exacerbating that. There is nothing particularly healthy for the biosphere, polluting it the way we do, and what isn’t healthy for the biosphere isn’t healthy for the biological entity known as people, whatever the propaganda says about this glorious Age. Civilization as we know it is economically beneficial to a small number of humans, disastrous for the majority, and catastrophic for life generally. There isn’t any question at all, approaching the 400 ppb number, of carbon molecules in the atmosphere, we are helping to heat up the atmosphere, contributing to climate change. But there is clearly something else going on.
RE suggests, as our solar system is passing through the plane of the ecliptic of the Milky Way, from above the plane to below the plane, the nearer we are to the plane, the more we are bombarded with neutrinos flowing from the center of the galaxy, which is putting a strain on all the interstellar bodies – the other planets and the sun.
Whatever the cause, every celestial body in the solar system has been in upheaval the last several decades, as evidenced by this video from David Wilcock. I consider David a charlatan extraordinaire, but he is an excellent compiler of curious data. I don’t support what he is saying in the beginning of this piece, or necessarily his judgement about what ALL of it means, but these two links he alludes to (and a third I added), and the other evidence in the video of the changes ongoing throughout the solar system, do lend credence to RE’s hypothesis:
http://www.sott.net/articles/show/167057-Defenses-Down-Galactic-Dust-Storm-Hits-Solar-System)
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/northamerica/usa/3222476/Suns-protective-bubble-is-shrinking.html
http://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2008/23sep_solarwind/
Whatever the cause, it is certainly a paradigmatic shift to say that climate change is being caused by changes within the earth, particularly when you are suggesting the driver of that is something coming from outside the heliosphere. Because if that is the case, well, it would seem to suggest we are fucked, if the increase in tectonic activity continues. We’ve grown accustomed to the idea of continuity. Not just here in America the last seventy years, with the ever growing economy, but over all, the last 10,000 years. We are told, that when the ice from the last ice age finally melted, the climate settled into a nice calm groove, we started planting seeds, and it’s been all progress on this (climatically) stable planet ever since. RE suggests the heating of the oceans will mean more moisture in the air, ever more rains, and ever more cloud cover, until the earth is shrouded and things cool down. That of course would lead to another ice age, and very great difficulties unknown in recent memory, for a higher mammal called Homo sapien. As in, population bottleneck. That likely has happened before, when the Toba volcano in the south pacific blew it’s top, 70,000 years ago, shrouding the skies with particulate, blocking the sun and reducing the population of Homo sapien to an estimated 1000 breeding pairs. So it’s not like that is without precedent.
But that could never happen to us, right? Because we have conquered nature, right? If there’s a more orthodox belief than that, it’s hard to imagine.
The Geotectonic Ocean Heat Transfer hypothesis may seem like just another doom and gloom scenario, to add to the bucket full bearing down on us at this point. But I don’t think so. I think it’s the best news I’ve heard in awhile. How can that be? Well, I’ve never made much of a secret that I think this universe is divine, which is to say, imbued with energy and conscious intent, throughout. Hearing that the earth is acting up tectonically, that the whole solar system is in upheaval, at the same time the human exponential growth curve has reached it’s peak, at the same time our financial markets seem on the cusp of collapse, at the same time we seem to be on the verge of global war for the last of the oil, at the same time the Mayan’s cyclical 5,126 long count calendar comes to an end/beginning (5000 years ago we gathered in cities and started writing, 10,000 years ago we started planting seeds) well, it’s just another profound layer of mysteriousness. Radical changes are afoot, clearly, on every level. And in light of that, the industrial age begins too look less like a terrible mistake leading inevitably to the extinction of life on planet earth, and more like the necessary growing pains, that we might become aware of the changes that are happening to the entire solar system, and so, prepare ourselves for what is coming. How we do that, I don’t know, other than to look at it and be honest. To train our consciousness there. To face it. That we might choose to live more humbly, more harmoniously, on this beautiful planet.
We aren’t really doing that of course. More, we are doing whatever we can not to face the radical changes all around us, like this video posted on my Facebook news feed, described by the poster as THIS IS WHAT THE INTERNET WAS MADE FOR.
Gut the resources of the earth to make a washing machine designed with forced obsolescence to break down in less than ten years, but to be destroyed instead for pleasure by some idiot bright enough to heft a rock.
Perhaps it’s best to give up on any meaning, in the way of conspicuous affluence and “disposable” income? Or, find this the most propitious of times, to be AWAKE and ALIVE, to BE in a way that is MEANINGFUL, as if we are at the cusp of a transformation unlike anything humanity has ever known?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
BTW – I keep forgetting to mention, one of my readers sent me a great documentary Once Upon A Time In Knoxville I highly recommend. A great story of the waste based culture of our time, and what some are doing about it.






























