The $254 Billion Defeat
Jews Jaws One
Shark America Nine
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 151
Note: Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2007
Looking for the Peru-Chile Event
Today: Tactics of the Smallville Battle (Classified)
You know me, Dear Reader, I write sea stories, war stories and God stories; sometimes a ghost story, sometimes a love story, and when you put all my stories together they mean what I set out to say way back in 1963, that this Earth will be dead by 2065.
Dead as a doornail. Everything gone, nothing left, not only all memory of human existence gone, but not a memory of any existence at all. This Earth as dead as that moon we look at on warm summer nights when she is full and bright and we are feeling romantic, but dead, like Earth's stillborn baby sister..
Dead Earth, dead moon, continuing their dance of the eons of the past into the eons to come; but no one to see the dance, no life, no life, anywhere around.
How could this be? Centuries of life, tens of centuries of life, hundreds of centuries of life, seemingly inexhaustible life, gone, gone, gone like a bubble burst?
Therein lies a story you should know; how it was that George W. Bush destroyed the world. Not alone, no, it was a cooperative effort, but he was the Angel of Death who pulled the plug, and a bit more...and a bit more...and a bit more, yes, as you shall see.
Cascading events, Dear Reader, that's how the world dies; cascading events, geometric accumulation of disaster, point of no return passed, hope lost, lost and gone forever, dreadful sorrow. Bingo! Puff! Now you have it; now it is lost.
So, a sea story. I call this story, "The Constantly Ascending Joy Factor".
You might find this story difficult at first, not that is so smart and you are not, no, it is because it is a story the likes of which you have never heard, first its points of references are not yours, then its concepts are not yours, and then it is a story with no crisis and no strain, no tension and no drama--those constant tools of human story telling--it is, I warn you, a story with a constantly ascending joy factor.
So, with that preamble, let us begin.
My wife and I were playing with our kiddies back where I come from. You might find it odd, but we never thought to give our planet a name; and we barely had names for ourselves, for that matter.
Yes, how odd that must seem to you, your brother the brat having no name; and until this moment I had never before thought of that odd difference between us.
There are so many differences, yet it is said we are related.
We Space Sailors have voices, but they are mainly used for singing. We have seemingly forever talked telepathically. We are like birds in that way, if you have an understanding of how telepathic birds are.
No, you don't, do you?
That is a point worth mentioning as I take you into this most difficult story to tell because everything is different where I come from, from the nature of water to the balance of the fire between life and death.
The telepathy of birds is a good example of what I an leading up to. In English there is the expression "bird brain", meaning "stupid", but the intelligence of a bird is at least 10,000 times the size of its brain; but the two cannot really be compared because one is spirit and one is flesh.
The intelligence of all living things, and all dead things to for that matter, rests in the soul, not the brain.
A genius with brain damage remains a genius, although except through telepathic expression or awkward translation of noises meaning words, recognition of and expression of that genius is most difficult.
Although Einstein's brain has long ceased to function, Einstein's sprit remains a genius spirit.
Telepathy is the most common form of expression in the Universe, including on Earth if you take in all the living forms, Cows are telepathic; horses are telepathic; dogs are telepathic; fish are telepathic; mice are telepathic...well, you get the idea; and even you...and even you...and even you, Dear Reader, are telepathic.
Only in the modern human being is telepathy an atrophied form of communication, having been crowded out by the wagging tongue.
I am a Space Sailor by trade, or profession, or vocation, or for just the pure love of it; as I have told you in the past in the context of my space-sailoring here on this dying Earth; but never have I told you how I happened to sail here.
You know how it is, there is no place like home; so times at home on our planet of no name were very jolly...well, yes, as strange and outdated a word as that is it fits mood at home when we returned from the sea; and of course you know we call space "the sea".
By "we" i mean the wife the kiddies and I. We all go to sea together. That's another odd difference between us, isn't it?
So, we were happy to be back home after a long voyage and were playing games and talking about the universe...hey, that seems strange, too, in the context of the pit-like existence of the human being on this Earth...but my wife, my kiddies and I live in the Universe; we understand the Universe; the Universe is our back yard; the Universe is our Seven Seas...and we are all Space Sailors--mother, father and children--and we sail the universe together.
We call that, and home, Heaven.
That, Dear Reader, is a happy marriage, sailing from star to star in a sea of constant beauty; husband, wife and kiddies all manning the ship. The ship is made of a different kind of glass, and it is transparent, easy to see out of, up and down and all around, but difficult to be seen in a background of stars if privacy is what we are wanting.
That is, if we turn off the lights you cannot see us above you at night.
(The more I begin to tell you this story the more I realize how different we are from you; perhaps that's why America has been so wicked to me; but that's another story.)
Being from elsewhere, I have at times read science fiction with interest, or did, I don't anymore, and I have never read a science fiction story that came close to the reality of life away from this solar system.
I see this failing as a kind of human egocentrism, that we, they, us folks from elsewhere, are portrayed to be variations of the human being or monsters of Earth form, but always projections of Earth life, Earth viewpoint, Earth psychology.. For this reason I consider science fiction writers to be runt geniuses.
In the reality of life beyond this solar system nothing could be further from the truth than saying life, or thought, or love, or anything elsewhere in the Gala Sea or the Universe would be a projection of such things on Earth.
In a very real and important way, life on Earth is unique in the Universe...but I will get to that, don't jump to any conclusions and don't let it go to your head.
And by the way, the human being was not made in God's image; expel that comic idea from your brain. Think about it. What kind of egomaniacal culture would dream that up? Oh oh, sorry, I am about be accused of being anti-Semitic again; but a lot of people buy that Man-In-God's-Image story, and it just is not true.
In fact, not only is the human being not made in the image and likeness of God, the human being is quite unique in form, unique in all the universe as far as I know, and I have been sailing the universe now for about eight million years.
No Charles Darwin am I, sailing aboard the Beagle seeking out evolutionary history; but Virgil, sailing aboard the Peacemaker seeking out cousins.
I will give it to you straight, the human being is something of an accident, a byproduct of a tragedy.
This is going to be a harder story to tell than I thought, because it is just so different from anything you know. Where are the reference points? Where are the similes? And oh so many vanities to be crushed.
Look at it this way, the monkey is not what you have evolved from, it is what you are evolving to.
So, my wife and kiddies and I were having a jolly time when God stopped by to say hello.
This is not to say God stopped by our cottage in the glen and tapped upon the door, no, the presence of God, as it always does when God visits, overwhelmed our planet; a nice overwhelming mind you, and that was nothing unexpected and nothing that does not occur with some pleasant regularity.
So, the feeling of the visit was not of spiritual ecstasy as many might expect; ecstasy is more or less our common state if you think of it a happiness and not orgasm; but such visits from God are rather like if we had things like tea and teacups God would have tea with us and would chat with us and ask how things are with us...no, I'd better hold off telling you how God and we talk; this is kindergarten, that is grammar school.
You understand what I mean, I think, there is no Heavenly Choir, there is no bowing and scraping before God, that is one aspect of why Heaven is heavenly.
But back to my point, our first impression was that God stopped by to say hello, because that is what God always does around the Universe, stops by and says hello in God's planet-enveloping way, but there was something extra to this visit.
To make a long story short, that was the first time God ever mentioned you to me; and I must say, you were first introduced as "a problem".
"Virgil", God said, "I have a problem I would like you to help me with".
(To Be Continued)
Shark America Nine
Number of Earthquakes in the Past Seven Days: 151
Note: Expect a Disastrous Earthquake on December 26, 2007
Looking for the Peru-Chile Event
Today: Tactics of the Smallville Battle (Classified)
You know me, Dear Reader, I write sea stories, war stories and God stories; sometimes a ghost story, sometimes a love story, and when you put all my stories together they mean what I set out to say way back in 1963, that this Earth will be dead by 2065.
Dead as a doornail. Everything gone, nothing left, not only all memory of human existence gone, but not a memory of any existence at all. This Earth as dead as that moon we look at on warm summer nights when she is full and bright and we are feeling romantic, but dead, like Earth's stillborn baby sister..
Dead Earth, dead moon, continuing their dance of the eons of the past into the eons to come; but no one to see the dance, no life, no life, anywhere around.
How could this be? Centuries of life, tens of centuries of life, hundreds of centuries of life, seemingly inexhaustible life, gone, gone, gone like a bubble burst?
Therein lies a story you should know; how it was that George W. Bush destroyed the world. Not alone, no, it was a cooperative effort, but he was the Angel of Death who pulled the plug, and a bit more...and a bit more...and a bit more, yes, as you shall see.
Cascading events, Dear Reader, that's how the world dies; cascading events, geometric accumulation of disaster, point of no return passed, hope lost, lost and gone forever, dreadful sorrow. Bingo! Puff! Now you have it; now it is lost.
So, a sea story. I call this story, "The Constantly Ascending Joy Factor".
You might find this story difficult at first, not that is so smart and you are not, no, it is because it is a story the likes of which you have never heard, first its points of references are not yours, then its concepts are not yours, and then it is a story with no crisis and no strain, no tension and no drama--those constant tools of human story telling--it is, I warn you, a story with a constantly ascending joy factor.
So, with that preamble, let us begin.
My wife and I were playing with our kiddies back where I come from. You might find it odd, but we never thought to give our planet a name; and we barely had names for ourselves, for that matter.
Yes, how odd that must seem to you, your brother the brat having no name; and until this moment I had never before thought of that odd difference between us.
There are so many differences, yet it is said we are related.
We Space Sailors have voices, but they are mainly used for singing. We have seemingly forever talked telepathically. We are like birds in that way, if you have an understanding of how telepathic birds are.
No, you don't, do you?
That is a point worth mentioning as I take you into this most difficult story to tell because everything is different where I come from, from the nature of water to the balance of the fire between life and death.
The telepathy of birds is a good example of what I an leading up to. In English there is the expression "bird brain", meaning "stupid", but the intelligence of a bird is at least 10,000 times the size of its brain; but the two cannot really be compared because one is spirit and one is flesh.
The intelligence of all living things, and all dead things to for that matter, rests in the soul, not the brain.
A genius with brain damage remains a genius, although except through telepathic expression or awkward translation of noises meaning words, recognition of and expression of that genius is most difficult.
Although Einstein's brain has long ceased to function, Einstein's sprit remains a genius spirit.
Telepathy is the most common form of expression in the Universe, including on Earth if you take in all the living forms, Cows are telepathic; horses are telepathic; dogs are telepathic; fish are telepathic; mice are telepathic...well, you get the idea; and even you...and even you...and even you, Dear Reader, are telepathic.
Only in the modern human being is telepathy an atrophied form of communication, having been crowded out by the wagging tongue.
I am a Space Sailor by trade, or profession, or vocation, or for just the pure love of it; as I have told you in the past in the context of my space-sailoring here on this dying Earth; but never have I told you how I happened to sail here.
You know how it is, there is no place like home; so times at home on our planet of no name were very jolly...well, yes, as strange and outdated a word as that is it fits mood at home when we returned from the sea; and of course you know we call space "the sea".
By "we" i mean the wife the kiddies and I. We all go to sea together. That's another odd difference between us, isn't it?
So, we were happy to be back home after a long voyage and were playing games and talking about the universe...hey, that seems strange, too, in the context of the pit-like existence of the human being on this Earth...but my wife, my kiddies and I live in the Universe; we understand the Universe; the Universe is our back yard; the Universe is our Seven Seas...and we are all Space Sailors--mother, father and children--and we sail the universe together.
We call that, and home, Heaven.
That, Dear Reader, is a happy marriage, sailing from star to star in a sea of constant beauty; husband, wife and kiddies all manning the ship. The ship is made of a different kind of glass, and it is transparent, easy to see out of, up and down and all around, but difficult to be seen in a background of stars if privacy is what we are wanting.
That is, if we turn off the lights you cannot see us above you at night.
(The more I begin to tell you this story the more I realize how different we are from you; perhaps that's why America has been so wicked to me; but that's another story.)
Being from elsewhere, I have at times read science fiction with interest, or did, I don't anymore, and I have never read a science fiction story that came close to the reality of life away from this solar system.
I see this failing as a kind of human egocentrism, that we, they, us folks from elsewhere, are portrayed to be variations of the human being or monsters of Earth form, but always projections of Earth life, Earth viewpoint, Earth psychology.. For this reason I consider science fiction writers to be runt geniuses.
In the reality of life beyond this solar system nothing could be further from the truth than saying life, or thought, or love, or anything elsewhere in the Gala Sea or the Universe would be a projection of such things on Earth.
In a very real and important way, life on Earth is unique in the Universe...but I will get to that, don't jump to any conclusions and don't let it go to your head.
And by the way, the human being was not made in God's image; expel that comic idea from your brain. Think about it. What kind of egomaniacal culture would dream that up? Oh oh, sorry, I am about be accused of being anti-Semitic again; but a lot of people buy that Man-In-God's-Image story, and it just is not true.
In fact, not only is the human being not made in the image and likeness of God, the human being is quite unique in form, unique in all the universe as far as I know, and I have been sailing the universe now for about eight million years.
No Charles Darwin am I, sailing aboard the Beagle seeking out evolutionary history; but Virgil, sailing aboard the Peacemaker seeking out cousins.
I will give it to you straight, the human being is something of an accident, a byproduct of a tragedy.
This is going to be a harder story to tell than I thought, because it is just so different from anything you know. Where are the reference points? Where are the similes? And oh so many vanities to be crushed.
Look at it this way, the monkey is not what you have evolved from, it is what you are evolving to.
So, my wife and kiddies and I were having a jolly time when God stopped by to say hello.
This is not to say God stopped by our cottage in the glen and tapped upon the door, no, the presence of God, as it always does when God visits, overwhelmed our planet; a nice overwhelming mind you, and that was nothing unexpected and nothing that does not occur with some pleasant regularity.
So, the feeling of the visit was not of spiritual ecstasy as many might expect; ecstasy is more or less our common state if you think of it a happiness and not orgasm; but such visits from God are rather like if we had things like tea and teacups God would have tea with us and would chat with us and ask how things are with us...no, I'd better hold off telling you how God and we talk; this is kindergarten, that is grammar school.
You understand what I mean, I think, there is no Heavenly Choir, there is no bowing and scraping before God, that is one aspect of why Heaven is heavenly.
But back to my point, our first impression was that God stopped by to say hello, because that is what God always does around the Universe, stops by and says hello in God's planet-enveloping way, but there was something extra to this visit.
To make a long story short, that was the first time God ever mentioned you to me; and I must say, you were first introduced as "a problem".
"Virgil", God said, "I have a problem I would like you to help me with".
(To Be Continued)
posted by Virgil Kret at 6:35 PM
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