The POST-IDEA World
I'm on a rickety and aging sailing vessel that's seen some better days, wandering in my sub-reality on a stinky old spaceship planet that supplies what's left of the ocean for my vessel to weave and wax (and eventually sink) upon. Surrounded by smelly old flotsam and jetsam and even a turd or two, we try to keep our spirits up and even laugh a lot at times. But sometimes it's lonely and sad and hard to believe. Old Three Stooges reruns only help so much.
We teeter and totter and tweet, me and the planet and the ocean and my gig [a small skiff, n], with my companions of three, the three most important people in the world. Not important to everyone else. But it feels that way, because I'm still human, and until I devolve sufficiently to realize that we're all one, I'll harbor this illusion of importance and individuality. Meanwhile only the more evolved species on this mudball we call "Urth" know that truth... dogs, cats, dolphins, cows and bulls, horses, and other sentient but misunderstood participants. Well yeah, a few Buddhists and Hindus do also. I'll give us that. So we try not to eat anything smarter than we are, but it's hard, as humans are omnivores with a huge need for protein.
Sometimes I forget I'm here on Urth. I love the nights, when I can lay in our nice warm bed, floating with my family together on a sargasso sea of peaceful non-thought. We're safe because we're together. We have food and guns. We have principles. And ammo.
None of which would save us from an asteroid. Or Homeland Security. Or a typhoon. Or an earthquake. Or Xe Corp.
But we go round and round. We can't stop. It's that will to live. Sometimes I think we have too much of an attachment to life. I mean, isn't it important to die well, and at the right time, maybe a moment of one's own choosing? I mean, watchya wanna do? Do you wanna live forever?
Something that a guy named Al Gore did a long time ago still vexes us. He's a villain now, despised by practically everyone except me. He "invented" the infernal internet, and then he used it to tell us an unpalatable truth: our planet is dying because we are acting like morons.
I like Al Gore. He told the truth and pushed a lot of paper. He would have been President of these United States of America in 2004, except that a stacked Supreme Court and the greedy billionaires decided that the POTUS would continue to be George W. Bush. So 10,000 votes for old Al disappeared somewhere into the back of a clothes closet in Florida, like old socks tend to vanish into wormholes and wind up on the planet of old socks. So somewhere there must be a planet of old stolen and suppressed votes.
Anyway, Al was an IDEA guy. His whole life is one idea after another. I admire that. Having an idea requires thinking, something most of us never do. I guess I'm thinking right now, but it's a chore. Maybe it's just my hypothyroidism acting up... but more likely it's that goddam Michelle Bachmann and her quizling hubby.
Newsweek calls Michelle "The Queen of Rage." Her and her quizling hubby intend to establish "Pray the Gay Away Treatment Centers" all across the USA... they're kicking off the festivities by verbally attacking gay folk's "lifestyle" and suggesting that gay folks are the reason that so many divorces occur in our country and that gay folks caused the birds to fall out of the sky and that gay folks are the reason 9-11 happened. And Haiti too, not to mention Las Vegas.
And if gay folks don't show up at those "Treatment Centers", there is always criminalization.
And then there's imprisonment.
And then there's execution, just like in the "Ugandan Experiment" (The "Kill the Gays" bill. It passed, by the way.)
And then the Jews go, followed by Haitians, Mexicans, Bulgarians, intellectuals, artists, poets, philosophers, musicians, and other folks that I can't think of because my brain hurts now... I can't get my brain around her quizling hubby (all 360 pounds of him) dancing like an effeminate, estrogenic Bathsheba in front of the shirts at the Republican National Committee. A ghastly spectacle.
You may have missed all of this (even the Al Gore part) and I kind of wish I'd missed it myself.
But the thing is, Michelle Bachmann and her quizling hubby share not ONE original thought in their collective heads, unless we lower the bar and accept the sophistry of Adolf Hitler as reasonable and original.
And what about all this gay-bashing? Is that what's behind a fourth of the work-force being unemployed? Is that the reason that 41 percent of our citizens are on food stamps? Are gay people behind the tornadoes and hurricanes and weird weather we're having?
I can answer that last one. No. It's HAARP, actually.
And these idiots, they say that being gay is a choice. Right. Gay folks like to be hung on fence-posts on Wyoming to die, they enjoy being tortured and beaten and bullied and denied equal rights and being unemployed and left without housing and food and getting hit in the head with cinder-blocks. Who wouldn't like that kind of "lifestyle?"
As Kurt Vonnegut Jr used to say, "Why not just go take a flying f&%# at a rolling donut?"
And again: all the present President of these glorious fifty United States of America needs is an IDEA! Right now the President is Barack Obama, and he seems awfully stuck for an answer. Bernie Sanders has answers. Dennis Kucinich has answers.
Thinking, real thinking, is the source of most all ideas.
So perhaps it's just a matter of thyroxine deficiency. Imagine that.
The entire Urth in turmoil because one man has not submitted to a proper Comprehensive Blood Panel.
Just a thought! If a bit of thyroxine every day would bring back that gattling-gun thinker whom I once compared to the great Muhammad Ali, if it would inspire him to play ropa-dope with the Republican Machine, if it would give him the energy to be the man that he seemed to be before the 2008 elections, then who on this mudball Urth would deny him the right to a virtual bath in thyroxine?
His pituitary would kick in, and then his thyroid would start to perk up his metabolism and then he would have an original thought. And that might lead to THE IDEA THAT SAVES THIS PLANET. Solar and wind power. Cold fusion. The end of fossil fuels. Hell, the end of the infernal internal combustion engine. Anti-gravity! No more pollution or Monsanto or evil billionaires or Super-Comittees!
Food for everyone! Houses for everyone! Happiness and fun in the sun for everyone!
A Steve Martin always says, "NAHHHHHHHH."
Maybe it's become a post-idea world because we're most of us post-idea morons.
Let's face it. There's sugar and junk food and a million chemicals in the average American diet, plus the pharmaceuticals and pollutants bubbling in the tap water. And we ALL need a shower once in a while. That water just doesn't bounce off our skin without some osmosis. Stop to think about THAT.
Or maybe our thinking machines have made us lazy. I bought a synthesizer last year that played itself. I took it back. It wouldn't let me THINK. It had someone else's bad ideas programmed into it. As ROM! It was an idea-cancellation machine!
I think that my Mac helps me to think but sometimes I think that it just makes it more difficult to express what it is I'm thinking about. Maybe it makes thinking a process to THINK about. Anybody with any sense knows that you can't NOT think of something if you're told not to think it... and computers are telling us that an awful lot lately. Don't think of monkeys. It's like yawning. Just try to stop yawning.
Forgive me for that. I'm not thinking clearly, obviously. I'm now yawning.
I'm sure of one thing, though. It's a post-idea world we live in, and it's just a matter of time before our lack of creative and critical thought catches up to us and bites us.
I think we've already been bitten. Maybe Steve Jobs has avoided it - what esoteric and downright weird ideas he's come up with, and not all of them are good but at least he's thinking - it's just that it seems to me that psychopathy is pretty much a requirement for government employment in Washington DC, and it looks like that requirement is spreading elsewhere like wildfire.
I know that human psychopathy is behind the destruction of all the nice things that are so worth loving... the animals and the trees and the sea and the fish and the birds and the air and the art and the music and each other and... well, just about everything NICE. That means something. It means that our days are numbered, and it's sad because they don't have to be. But our under-qualified leaders and, increasingly, our under-educated neighbors, seem determined to exterminate all the NICE things, all the GOOD ideas, and all the thoughts that are original and individual and mind-bogglingly exciting.
I was so sad when they announced the end of the space program.
No, we don't NEED a space program.
I don't NEED a piano, but I'd be forlorn without one.
This alone makes me believe that we are a post-idea bunch of wazoos.
I notice that it's still Twentieth Century Fox with the lion and everything. They are remaking all the old movies because no one can think of a new idea for an original new movie.
I notice that the Tea Party still thinks that Social Security is an entitlement, and that it's already bankrupt. And it's so strange to watch this because lots of the Tea Party folks are dependent on their Social Security checks. And Medicare. And medicaid.
To live in a post-idea world, we have to ignore the idiocy around us and get some neat, new IDEAS! My idea is to do pretty much what I used to do and be pretty much who I used to be before this post-idea junk became the bee's knees. My idea is to have ideas that negate their none-ideas, to have thoughts that interfere with their none-thoughts. I want to be an annoyance to them, at least. I want to be a bee in their bonnets.
When I say "their" and "them" I mean anyone that is anti-idea and anti-thought, anyone that thinks nature is to be dominated and pummeled into submission, anyone who believes that humans should have dominion over the Urth. And anyone that disagrees with me. I'm human, and I'm a wazoo too. I'm just a wazoo who's trying to un-wazoo her brain and her SELF.
I love the nights, when I can lay in our nice warm bed, floating with my family together on a sargasso sea of peaceful non-thought. We're safe because we're together.
I want that for everybody, but I want peaceful THOUGHT instead. Beautiful IDEAS. Wonderful DAYS instead of End of Days. I want something much nicer than most of us have. I want a bright, loving, joy-filled future for everybody here. I want to live in a world of GOOD IDEAS and GOOD THOUGHTS!
There must be hope for us because we're still here and we still have time to straighten up and get past our compulsive wazoo-ness.
I'm going to have at least ONE good idea before the day is over!
JW, Aug 14, 2011