Archive for the ‘Geek Love’ Category

Here’s an idea: Every January, do a word cloud of your previous year’s writings. The above is what happens when I type my blog address into a random word cloud generator.  It seems to catch the first “page” of my blog, and it’s clear I’ve spent the last few posts muttering about all my stuff.

I cut and pasted my text from my 2012 writings and got this: Ordinary words with plenty of qualifiers, almost as if I’m making excuses for something:  “because,” “actually,” “just,” “probably,” “only,” etc.

And when you take my whole blog, you get this:

Just All About Pinky and Spooky.  Which basically means I’m an ordinary gal with an online diary. Interesting exercise.


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Dad with his friend Jose

This post is my belated and longer than expected response to the “Obamacare Decision.”  Belated because my father died in June and I was too busy grieving to weigh in on anything, let alone politics.  Longer than expected because really, this post is more about my dad than it is about healthcare. 

The bottom line is that the Government run healthcare changed my father’s life, and because of this, it changed ours. For the better. 

In June the blogosphere was abuzz about “ObamaCare” even though Mitt Romney could arguably be called the Grandfather of the Health Insurance Mandate. Shouldn’t we be calling it Obamneycare? Nah. We should call it the 1989 Heritage Foundation Personal Responsibility Mandate, because that’s where it was originally cooked up.  That some folks deem the requirement that one BUY a product with one’s OWN MONEY “socialist,” when it’s clearly fascist diktat, is a testament to the sorry state of the public school system, which apparently no longer teaches history or civics. In other news, the next big social problem – homelessness – will be solved when Congress passes a bill mandating everyone buy a house. Wait for it!

But I couldn’t be bothered to blog about “Obamneycare” or the Supreme Court decision, because my Dad was missing. Again.

Some may wonder how our family ever let things deteriorate to the point where a family member can disappear and we don’t call the cops, especially when the missing person is mentally ill. But when solitary, immovable obstinance  is THE defining character of the person’s mental illness, one just rolls with it, and after awhile it starts to feel normal. Such was life with my father.

Dad wasn’t always obstinant and solitary, at least in my memory.  Mom said he’d had an “emotional break” when he was in the Air Force, but when I was very young he was in a good place mentally, and he was a good dad. He was brilliant – a ’70s computer programmer – and kind and caring, good to animals (we had cats, and for awhile a lamb named Suzanne) and saw to my intellectual development at an early age. He taught me how to write when I was barely three.

I have good memories of lying on the driveway next to Dad on a hot summer night where he explained the planets and constellations. He said I should go to the Air Force Academy and become a lawyer. Those were happy times. I still have the stuffed animals he brought home from his business trips when I was just a baby: Pitiful Pooch, Teddy and Piggy.


Unfortunately by the time my sister was born my father was emotionally fragile and rapidly going downhill.  She never got to know the dad that I once knew.  All she knew was catatonia and mental hospitals, divorce and alcoholism, unemployment and homelessness.  By then for both of us, visiting Dad on weekends meant captivity in his van while he drove around the Minnesota and Wisconsin countryside looking at birds and saying strange things. He loved birds.  In the end it was a bird that killed him, but I’m getting ahead of the story.

When I was in college my dad, by then in his late forties or early fifties, disappeared for 3 years. I think he was just driving around, crashing on sofas, or sleeping in his car. At least he was wildlife-spotting on the Iron Range where he grew up, his world of big bossy immigrant families, iron mines, corn and cattle farms, and Anabaptist austerity.  He had run away to join the Air Force to get away from his childhood, but he was, like his father, a solitary farmer-woodsman at heart.

Dad’s model airplane, displayed at his memorial service

At some point Social Services got a hold of him and things got more stable after that.  Dad got an apartment, health insurance from the VA, an anti-depressant prescription and a disability check.  He picked up an old hobby, building and flying model airplanes. He also got a bird or two or three: The last one was a cockateil named Jose.  A few years later he qualified for Social Security and we all breathed a collective sigh of relief because he could afford the independence and solitude that he craved.

Still, he didn’t tell us about his early 1990’s heart bypass until his second operation, because “they made him call.”  He was a terrible communicator.  In fact, a few years later we didn’t find out grandma had died until after the funeral.  Looking back on the situation I think a big part of my father’s mental difficulties came from not enough oxygen getting to his brain.  He also had multiple undiagnosed food allergies that contributed to his depression, plus he developed Bird Lung from his pets. Since I know what oxygen deprivation feels like, I more easily can forgive him today for all the crazy stuff that he did or did not do back then, or said or did not say.

As he got older it was just simple things that caused us to lose contact:  He lost his hearing aid and couldn’t hear the phone ring.  He kicked the phone cord out of the wall and didn’t bother to plug it back in.  I made sure to visit him every time I went home to Minnesota. Had I known in college that once I moved to new Jersey I’d only see my dad a handful of times before he died, would I have visited more often? Most certainly yes.

Late April I was on the phone with him, trying to talk him out of a road trip,  because frankly he was a menace on the road and really needed to give up his license. Couldn’t he take the train instead? He responded in the usual manner: Play deaf and yammer away about birds or some suchwhat. When I shouted so loud and insistently that at least he get a cell phone just in case he van broke down, he promised to look into it.   Also called “Yessing them to death.”

Weeks passed. No call, no answer.  This time it felt different:  I was having visions of my father as a young man, the way I saw him when I was three years old. To me that was a sign that things were near or at the End and I knew I needed to do something. By then I’d gotten used to checking up on him by way of the apartment management and did so.  He finally called, and shared with me the fact that he’d recently been confined to a wheel chair with an oxygen tank and couldn’t go on his road trip.  Could I come out in July and drive him to the family reunion? For the moment at least, the bad news was the good news: Being confined to a wheelchair meant he wouldn’t be driving anymore.

I found the social worker who took care of the residents at his apartment and long story short, it took me and my sister two weeks and three or four social workers to find an open bed at a nursing home that accepted Social Security and medical assistance. My mother, her husband, and my dad’s sister and her husband were all very helpful in our absence, especially when it came to Dad’s apartment. During those two weeks Dad was in a private nursing care facility that did not accept insurance.  Jen and her kids flew out and I made arrangements to come out in July, which was a bad call on my part because Dad didn’t have that kind of time.   That’s Jen holding dad’s hand below.

But before that, Dad and I had one last phone call.  He did most of the talking, and I did not bother to interject with my opinions, or correct his misperceptions, because really, there was no point to it. He just wanted to get it all out.  He assured me that there was no reason to worry, that he was getting the best care in the world, and that he was happy and looking forward to being with his father again, because he could talk to “all of them” now.

“I know,” he said, “Because I know your background, that “pagan” stuff that you do, that I don’t need to explain these things to you.”

That’s when I knew he was having intermittent out-of-body experiences and visiting the people he loved. “You understand these things.  I know you’ll be okay and that you know I’m okay.”  I said yes.

The Veterans Administration hospital at One Veterans Way, Minneapolis MN. A third of the nation’s 24 million veterans get their health care from the VA.

The next day Dad became grumpy that things weren’t going his way. I understand his meeting with his caseworkers was, um, interesting. I knew it was his M.O. to mentally “check out” when he percieved people – especially women – trying to control him. He’d barely gotten settled into his new nursing home situation before a nervous medic called me in the middle of the night with bad test results.  I agreed with his recommendation and had him transferred to the VA.

Dad with the grandkids

I didn’t freak out when Spooky heard a man’s footsteps in the house the morning before the day that my father died. I knew we had to get to Minnesota soon and was just trying to make professional arrangements for the cats, because there were too many litterboxes to ask a friend to take care of. On June 24, a Sunday, for some strange reason Spooky and I decided to watch a movie before breakfast.  We never did that before.  What person in their right mind would do anything before breakfast on a weekend?  The movie was called A Wedding for Bella.  The plot involved a couple trying to pull off a wedding before the family matriarch died.  The couple failed: She died before the wedding and that’s when I knew we weren’t going to make it to Minnesota in time to see Dad alive, let alone for him to see me and Spooky get married.  I ran to the bathroom and cried and cried.

Spooky wanted to come to Minnesota with Bunny and me, but since we couldn’t find a pet sitter he reluctantly stayed behind.   Dad died while Bunny and I were at the airport waiting for our flight, so we had to say our goodbyes at the morgue.   I knew that waxy popsicle was not my father.  His body was an empty shell that failed my father when he was but a young man, a defective vehicle that had deprived him of most of what he valued.  He was happy to shuck it off, so why was it so hard for me to say goodbye to it?

Dad’s memorial cake

Of course, as every adult whose had to attend to the affairs of a recently deceased loved one, that was not the end of it.  There was an apartment to clean, accounts to close, headstones to pay for and final arrangements to make.  We’ll be driving out there next week to attend a family gathering in my Dad’s honor. We’re going to put his ashes in on of his planes and . . . We’ll think of something.

All in all however, I have only good things to say about my recent experience with so-called “Government Healthcare.”  The staff at the VA were efficient, professional and kind, and even the newbies and the volunteers were helpful.   This competence is contrasted with the staff at the two privately run nursing homes we did business with, who were more like the Keystone Kops, kind but utterly clueless. The place that took medical assistance couldn’t answer our questions, didn’t know where he was, who his social worker was going to be, couldn’t locate his personal effects until at least a week after he died, and even then we had to make two trips.  The “good” nursing home, the one that didn’t take insurance, returned my call 2 weeks after I tried to find out how much it would cost, only to be told they had no record of my father ever having been there. Then they sent my sister a bill.

The VA knew what it was doing.  They gave my father dignity in death and I’ll always be grateful for that.  In a way you could say my father’s whole adult life is a testament to what public assistance and so-called “Government entitlements” can do for individuals and families.  I wouldn’t want to live an America that didn’t have them.

Jen scatters Dad’s ashes at the bird sanctuary he loved

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(These  folks might also want to consider cutting down a few trees)

Got mosquitoes? There’s an app for that!  My Droid app SEEMS to work:  It’s called Favorite Frequencies, though there are many more out there just like it. It makes a very high pitched screamy noise we can’t hear, but that bugs seem to hate.  We can sit on the porch dring our ice tea, listening to music, reading, etc., without getting chewed up. And it’s free!

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Impossibly thin, Kevlar strong, and freakishly fast, introducing the Droid Razr with a lapdock. Awesome. By the time the 4G network reaches my town I’ll even be able to afford them.

The Droid RAZR is a Webtop phone, meaning it turns into a desktop or laptop computer running Firefox when it’s hooked up to the appropriate dock. This is fantastic because, ironically, I’m NOT a gadget person.  I don’t even want to carry around a smartphone, a laptop, AND a MP3 player, let alone buy them.  I just want one gadget that does everything, and this might just be it.

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Carl Calleman’s theories have no greater merit in Mayanology than those of Harold Camping in Christian Theology

You may have heard that the ‘end date’ of the ‘Mayan calendar’ is actually going to be this Friday, October 28th, 2011, rather than December 21st 2012. This idea is based on the idiosyncratic work of Dr. Carl Calleman. This theory is ‘idiosyncratic’ in that it bears no relationship whatsoever to any other Mayan scholarship, or indigenous Mayan teaching. (click here for more)

– Calleman’s Pyramid Scheme by Mark Heley

I don’t know if y’all remain “hip” to the latest in “Mayan” apocalyptic theory, but December 21, 2012 is no longer the “end of the world.”  It’s, erhm, well, TODAY, the “end of all cycles.”  How are you feeling?  I’m feeling just fine, thanks!

You gotta wonder about people who sit on the edge of their seats waiting for the End of the World.  Such morbid fascination!  From some of the online commentaries it almost seems as if they’re looking forward to mass mayhem, death and destruction.  Others seem to manifest their anxieties by hoarding supplies for the Tribulation, AKA Prepping Gone Wild, in advance of Some Horrible Thing they’re convinced is going to happen; i.e., The End Of The World As We Know It (TEOTWAWKI). 

I am of the opinion that these people need psychiatric help and a big hug, because they’re in perpetual states of fear and suspended animation.  No matter what they do they can’t shake that feeling of creeping dread. Life really doesn’t need to feel that way.  It’s a brain chemistry thing that can be treated in a variety of ways, everything from counseling to medication to dietary changes, not to mention a few good nights’ sleep.  But that’s a rant for some other time.

It seems every generation has its groupies convinced that the Apocalypse will take place during their lifetimes, and that of course they’re among the elect. These people are already dead IMHO, because they have no lives.  I have ancient relatives who spent their whole lives waiting for the Rapture. Time passed and the world did not end, but their wasted lives did.

I’ve been wanting to post a link to this interview for a long time, and what better day than today?  It’s about time the interested actually read something by a REAL Mayan scholar:

The Annotated Apocalypse: Anthropologists tackle 2012

Last January, archaeo-astronomers held a symposium on the 2012 phenomenon and those papers were recently published in The Proceedings of the International Astronomy Union. Meanwhile, a new scholarly book, Decoding the Counterculture Apocalypse, is due out any day now. As of this writing it’s already sold out!  

One of the researchers featured in that book is John Hoopes, an archaeologist.  One of the reasons I like this guy is that he’s really into pop culture, and he’s very respectful and knowledgeable about the development of “new traditions,” which is an oxymoron but nonetheless very real to millions of people.  People actually believe in the Mayan prophecies, and millions are genuinely devoted to New Age religious philosophies.  Hoopes is actually very respectful and understanding about this, and does not mock believers.

A personal recollection: I began my own occult studies in the early 1980’s when avid readers of witchcraft books were led to believe that Wicca was an ancient religion.  It’s actually a pretty new one, developed by Gerald Gardener in the late 1940’s. “Everyone” knows this now, but back then even the suggestion that it was a myth was met by hostility. Still, today Wicca is a recognized religion and many people take their craft seriously.  New Age believers take their craft seriously too.

Funny, every time I see the word “maya” I think “Illusion.”

Here is what Professor Hoopes has to say about the origins of the so-called Mayan prophecies:

There’s only three books that represent scholarly critiques, and two scholarly articles. Anthony Aveni is an archeo-astronomer interested in the intersection of astronomy and culture. In his book, The End of Time: The Maya Mystery of 2012, he’s talking about what the real science behind this is. There’s also another book, 2012: Science and Prophecy of the Ancient Maya, by Mark Van Stone, which looks at what the hieroglyphic texts do and don’t say about 2012.

Like I told you, there’s actually only one text that even mentions it. And it’s not complete and not easily interpreted. All the prophecies don’t come from the pre-Columbian texts, but from post-contact documents that are heavily influenced by Christianity. There’s another paper about that contact period that has focused on the role of missionaries in the Yucatan shortly after Spanish conquest. Basically, it’s framing Millenarianism in the context of that post-contact era. Many of those people came to Mexico precisely because they were on the extreme end of ideology and were obsessed with the end of the world. And we know that one of the first things they said to the Indians they found was that the world is ending soon and Jesus is coming. It was a very important part of Spanish colonization. When we hear end of the world prophecies, what they are is synchronistic prophecies where Mayan beliefs and Catholic Millenarian beliefs combined.

On the invention of pseudoscience and new religions, Hoopes says:

 One of my favorite books is The Invention of Sacred Tradition. What they talk about is how people will invent things that they then say have been happening forever. I think it helps us understand the production of culture, how culture is generated. There’s a lot of richness out there that we can see in the creation of new mythologies.

Jesus Potter Harry Christ is another book you should look at. It’s a detailed comparison of Christian myth and the Harry Potter stories, and it comes to the conclusion that, except for the fact that Christian myth has been sanctioned for 2000 years, there’s no difference. Essentially, one could base a whole theology on Harry Potter. And, in fact, I suspect that in the future somebody will. That’s how culture gets created. Myth cycles become the way that people teach morality, values, and behavior. That’s what the Bible does, but Star Trek has that function, too.

Other pop culture artifacts influencing so-called “Mayan” belief systems (emphasis mine):

Something else covered in that 2012 book I’m in that hasn’t really been talked about in mainstream media … the reality is that this mythology came out of the psychedelic subculture. You can’t ignore that influence. I was talking about this with a TV presenter and her reaction was that they couldn’t say that because they do family programming. A lot of people won’t talk about it because it’s a taboo topic. But we do discuss that in this book. If some of the 2012 theories seem like they were made up by people on drugs, it’s because they were. There’s this huge psychedelic subculture that still exists and that the media doesn’t really report on except to demonize it. But it’s important.

Also, the most recent research I’ve been doing, and I haven’t published on this yet, but I’m finding links between the work of H.P. Lovecraft and influence of that on 2012. Michael Coe was a huge Lovecraft fan, even. I’m working on a manuscript on that right now. But Lovecraft is at the root of a lot of the ideas here, like the cycles of destruction, for instance. That’s not Mayan, that’s Lovecraft. Lovecraft himself had a lot of skepticism and felt that spiritualism was appropriate for fiction but didn’t believe any of it in everyday reality, and he kind of used his fiction as a way to mock those beliefs a little. But now that’s being used as reality.

Most fascinating to me is that now I know I could actually get a PhD in the psychology of belief systems, and actually make a living at it. Wow that is AWESOME. What I’d love to study is what real indigenous tribes think about the woo-ification of their authentic belief systems. My thesis would be that they’re both annoyed and confused by it.

. . . what’s happening now is a very active synchretism of the religions of living Maya groups with New Age thought.

Mayan belief has long been synchronistic. In the pre-Columbian era they were influenced by the cultures and beliefs of Teotihuacan, the Toltecs, the Olmecs, and then you get the Spanish and Catholicism, then evangelical Protestantism, and since the 1970s there’s been this influence of the New Age and that’s really intensified now with the 2012 thing.

Essentially, some very enthusiastic hippies have gone into remote Maya villages, bringing their ideas about the New Age, Buddhism, and theosophy. They are introducing them to the Maya themselves, who are in turn producing a new synchretism. I think there are a lot of places that are reinterpreting shamanism along the lines of what Western academics think shamanism to be. That makes it really hard to understand what those people originally believed.

Hoopes on the “Pizza Effect:”

The name comes from the history of the pizza, which is that the pizza was invented by Italian immigrants in New England creating a quick lunch. But as American tourists went to Italy in search of authentic pizza the restaurateurs were happy to oblige by inventing a history of the pizza in Italy. And now you have this “authentic” Italian pizza coming back to the U.S. I think that’s happening with 2012 as well. You have modern Maya talking about New Age secrets as if those were original parts of Maya culture, but those were things that were learned in the 60s and 70s.

So there you have it:  New Age Mayan Prophesy believers are actually New Age Protestant Milleniallists . . . on shrooms. Who knew?????  Well, now you and I do, and that’s a start. Milleniallism is a FASCINATING study; my ancestors on both sides of my family were protestant millennialists of some sort or another.  And you know what? Their beliefs were just as wacky – and just as authentic – as those of the New Agers.  More on that, at some future date, when I’m in the mood. In the mean time remember: Life is not a dress rehearsal.  The next “big thing,” whether the Apocalypse or the Golden Age, really isn’t right around the corner.  What’s big is NOW, so don’t waste time waiting for some higher authority to give you permission to start living.

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I’ve now seen both the final Harry Potter movie and the new Captain America movie. I’m obviously not the first to notice that in each the antagonist has no nose.

So. Are the bad guys evil because they are noseless, or are they noseless because they are evil? HMMMMM.

(Spoiler alert: Stop reading now if you plan to see either movie!)

I pondered this most-important subject this morning because I was lying in agony with another goddamn bladder infection and had little else to do.  Both movies are allegories for the eternal/infernal war between the Crown and the Krauts, and as you know I’m really into watching it, trying my best to remain in observer mode.  It’s so confusing sometimes I can barely determine who’s a Crown and who’s a Kraut. You’d think it would be bloody obvious, but it’s not. 

It’s not ethnicity or citizenship that sets these two factions apart; it’s their approach to herd management.   I hope that makes sense, because otherwise the war would appear no more than petty bickering over two different approaches to socialism (reformist vs revolutionary).  Actually the difference between the two factions is almost metaphysical. It’s a very very big deal and an awful lot is at stake.

In both movies the Crown faction wins, and at the end we are relieved to discover each protagonist is not really dead despite the fact that he probably should be.  Let that be a lesson to the Krauts, I suppose. Then again the Crown financed both movies, so there is likely more than a little bias to them. These two movies could mark the survival of, and triumph over, an epic assault on British-American social values and means of exchange,  but as the Cherman faction says,  ‘Fur uns ist der Krieg niemals vorbei.’  This war will never be over. 

There is no question (in my mind at least) that the British Fabian Society had a hand in the development of the Harry Potter series. However, ownership of Captain America appears to have changed idealogical hands in 2009 from the globalist “New World Order” faction to more patriotic interests in the United States. Marvel Entertainment, which owns the Captain America franchise, used to belong to New World Pictures, which morphed into New World Entertainment, which later became New World Communications. There were related companies/subsidiaries – New World Television, New World Video, New World Family Filmworks and New World International.  Marvel became a division of New World Animation in 1993.

ZOMG it’s NIBIRU Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Hahhaha

Uh . . . Sensing an attachment to this brave “New World?”  Uhm, yeah.

Anyway, Captain America was assassinated by this “New World” order in 2007 (vol. 5, #25).  However, the New World media companies are defunct today.   Rupert Murdoch put most of what was left of “new world media” under its Fox umbrella, and in 2009 Walt Disney purchased Marvel Entertainment for $4 billion(!). Interestingly, Walt Disney was a founding member of the anti-communist Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals

Kinda looks like Hogwarts, doesn’t it?

Shortly after purchase by this most American company, Captain America was “reborn,” or, to be specific, found to not really be dead after all, just stuck in Time.  The story of Captain America’s return to service is an obvious (to me) allegory to world events, such that I’m tempted to become a comic book geek.

Anyway, back to the noseless thing.  What does it mean? I can’ only venture a guess. Remember this guy?  It’s the modern Peter Pan, the magical boy who didn’t want to grow up. Fearing the aging process is arguably a proxy for fearing death, and that’s the small thread I’m grabbing to drag him into my essay. Jackson used his talents to achieve his idea of “perfection” but the more he tried the worse things got.  Inwardly focused, Jackson slid down a spiral of self-loathing as he forced one transformation upon himself after  another after another,  not knowing when to quit. He ended up with no nose: He had to have it reconstructed. He turned to drugs and predictably self-destructed. And now he’s dead.

Voldemort and Schmidt/RedSkull (Cherman, ja, sicher) share similar fatal flaws, all stemming, ultimately, from their nihilism and fear of death.  Both antagonists are drawn to the dark side of occultism and they abuse whatever power they can steal.  Cut off from any sense of the Divine,* wanting to play God or even wanting to BE God, they repeatedly force physical and metaphysical transformations upon themselves, not knowing when to quit. Neither Voldemort nor Schmidt has the character or moral strength necessary to manage their transformations, and somehow both of them lose their noses along the way.  Perhaps their skull like appearances reinforce the “death cult” image.

Meanwhile Voldemort and Schmidt attempt to mold the world into their personal utopias, societies of greatness where they would live as gods walking on earth. Not surprisingly, with the exception of their homogeneous minions, the world is repelled and fights back.   Consequently Voldemort’s and Schmidt’s resentments, stemming from their hatred of the difference between the way they thought the world ought to be and the way the world really is,  degenerate into murderous rage.  Each embarks upon a deadly rampage against the very people they tried to lead to paradise.

The anarchist, the aesthete, the mystic, the socialist revolutionary, even if they do not despair of the future, have in common with the pessimist a single sentiment of hatred and disgust for the existing order, a single craving to destroy or to escape from reality. Collective melancholy would not have penetrated consciousness so far, if it had not undergone a morbid development. 

– Durkheim


The movies’ antagonists are not inwardly focused like Michael Jackson, because that would have made for two really boring movies. Instead, Voldemort and Schmidt are outwardly focused: They project their rage at anyone or anything that irks them, including their own soldiers, and set out to destroy worlds that do not bend to their demands. They want to watch the world burn – hell, they want to set it on fire – so they may rebuild new worlds in their own images.  In that sense both Voldemort and Schmidt resemble Marxist idealogues.  Marxist revolutionaries don’t want to “change” society; they want to destroy the old order to create a utopia.  

Something to read later:  From Darkness to Light: Class, Consciousness and Salvation in Revolutionary Russia by Igal Halfin

Something else to read later: The Magic of Marxism, by Michael Polanyi

Oh and here’s another good one: Leo Strauss on German Nihilism (1941)

For the first time in my life – really – I wish I had the academic chops to expound upon the whole American-Brit-inspired Bad Guys = Nazis/Marxist/Nihilists meme in popular culture.  Unfortunately I do not know enough about National Socialism, Marxism, Nihilism, or even philosophy to continue down that path.  I find philosophical ponderings extremely self indulgent anyway, a sign of having way too much time on one’s hands.  Consequently, all you’re going to get from me are myopic generalities and personal observations. I’d wager volumes have already been written about the Brit-Celt /Teutonic-Slavic philosophical divide(s), and today I wish I could get my mitts on a few of them.  

I will, however, go out on an opinionated limb  (this being my self-indulgent blog) and suggest that both the Harry Potter and Captain America movies are Crown Faction social commentaries against the Kraut Faction.  They present British-American social values as being superior to those of their more collectivist-revolutionary-authoritarian European neighbors. From watching the fray I know the Krauts almost nailed them this round, but somehow the Crown prevailed, this time by initially playing possum.  Then they put their feet down hard at the 11th hour.

“There’s a reason you never win . . . it’s ’cause I never let you!”

It wasn’t just the U.S. military, represented by the oh-so-American Steve Rogers (Captain America), or the white-hatted British secret societies represented by Hogwarts,* that won the day for the Crown.  In American-Brit belief systems Providence favors the righteous and the good, and there is a Divine Force to whom all are accountable, including their royals and elites. To the revolutionary-marxist-nihilists, however, God is Dead.  There is no karma, no higher meaning, no morality nothing but the raw use of power to force an (ironically) moral stance from a top-down central authority. It’s their fatal flaw, the one that consigns them to loser status time and time again. Since they reject the Prime Super-Soldier it should surprise no one that “God is on our side” takes on literal meaning.

So, how are the Krauts reacting to their defeat?

Huh? Defeat? What defeat? ‘Fur uns ist der Krieg niemals vorbei.’

You see, that’s the nature of the beast:  The collectivist-authoritarians can’t help themselves, and they don’t know when to quit. Teutonic personalities in particular don’t know when to quit. The most you’ll get from the Kraut Faction is the occasional Rumplestiltzkin-like temper tantrum, a nihilistic implosion, and unfortunately those tend to be destructive and deadly. Will they end up without noses?  Maybe they’ll just cut-em off and say “So THERE!”   We can only watch and wait.

*It’s not a question of “believing in God” or not believing, because plenty who say they believe in God are similarly disconnected from Divine Source, Descarte’s “Seat of the Soul.”  The disconnect could be the result of a nonfunctioning pineal gland.

** There is an American Hogwarts. Really!

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I’m having so much fun in Wooville these days because there is so much ACTION!  Everything out there, it seems is an allegory for whats really going on behind the scenes with The Powers That Be, er, The Powers That Were.

People are freaking out about the Class M solar flares headed our way in just a few hours  . . . uh, whoops look like it’s happening now . . . but I’m not worried, because I’ve been reading the Woo! 

Several weeks ago a Woo Emissary explained to the New Age faithful how a new frequency/force field was up and running that would not only facilitate communications, but deflect incoming space energies.  I figured that meant not only meteors/comets, but also the increased energies coming from the sun.  The shield is supposedly EM in nature, or holographic, or both.

Well, now there’s more –  A few days later different woo channeler explained much the same thing.  And then another channeller the next day! Here they are. I snipped out the silly woo parts to get to the heart of it:

“The . . . sun is reaching an apex of extreme solar radiation and there is a very high frequency of solar magnetism . . . the solar magnetism is — well, it is actually affecting our molecules . . . (the “Federation). . . has determined that it has been necessary . . . to intervene in behalf of Earth, and they have created a force field. It is a holographic technology that filters and screens the extreme solar particles. It seems that this solar intensity is going to apex between summer solstice and fall equinox . . . If you can imagine, it is like a curved lens that rotates with the planet, and it is in direct alignment with wherever the sun is at its intensity at any time on the planet as we rotate between the hours of 10:00 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. because that is the solar intensity, and this shield is actually reducing the intensity of the solar magnetic particles, and shielding us from some of the radon or the radiation which could alter DNA and causing genetic — something about burning genes, like radiation burns in the genes of the DNA . . . (It) allows enough in for our mutation and evolution but not enough to cause damage to the genetic structures, and it is going to have to remain in place until it starts to decline and we’re not in as much danger.”

And today I found yet another channeler who reported this:

These waves of Light are woven with specific light frequency templates that are complex and yet quite basic. They are designed to lift your awareness and change the way in which your physical body is able to receive such massive light frequencies. The denseness of your body as well as your planet is being altered and reconfigured into the light patterns that they were originally designed to hold at the dawn of creation.

Well if it’s true, that’s mighty nice of them doncha think? Funny they never mentioned this project on the tee-vee.

So, thanks to the New Age ascension mythos I’m unafraid.  That’s not to say the power won’t get knocked out somewhere.  If the solar flare whacks New Jersey I have a a solar oven, and solar generator that will help me get back online. That is, if our computer isn’t completely FRIED by it.  Hmm. Maybe I’ll unplug it just in case. See ya on the flip side!

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