Questions nobody asks. #1

There’s more churches than 7-Elevens in this country?! I guess that’s possible. And churches and cathedrals all over Europe from eversince. More than castles. Yet look at the state the ‘CIVILISED’ world is in. Have I ever seen a “Church of Satan”?? Have you? Things are so bad that they say that Jesus himself is going to come back to clean up the whole mess. Ever wonder where Satan is hiding?. . . In plain sight. And continually building monuments to an idea that parishoners and Heathens alike pay lip service, Big time.

Sports Dynasty mirrors Human historyonics

The Randomness of Quantum Physics
Illustrates itself in the Exegence after a ballgame or
During the contest, then magnified in mass Exit
Of Encapsulated energy forms moving
In different Directions
Through similar Dual purpose portals
360 Degrees around,180 Degrees Opposed
To each other

Human Energy, itself a Universe of Energy
Exiting thru Strategic routes
From and to Reality
Being driven in similar Opposite
Or Closely Oblique Directions
Heading straight or stopping, detouring
All with the same Objective
Getting to the same Place :
Different Pillows on different sides
Of the Same or different Beds

Alchemy! Turning money into meat.

I should’a saved my breath but I said it anyway. “THIS MEAT HAS TO LAST FOR TWO MEALS. Tell me things are getting better! ? So while I was figuring out how much thyme to put in with the Garlic and soy sauce, she brushed past me, humming and grabbed a cold Nathan’s hot dog and started eating it. From Fridge to mouth, as I am figuring out how not to drown out the caramel flavor as the brown sugar burns slowly to black. Enough with the Shadon Benne(Look it up) she advises, as I over do it with the black pepper, while complaining about the Vodka. She’s gonna eat as much as she cares to anyway, but I gotta have another beer to make the beef stew taste right. Almost $6.00 a pound and the laughing-ass news on T.V. people tell me things are getting better.
Beef stew!!! Too much thyme she complains, “ I can smell the garlic from here.” !!???. . But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do in the kitchen as well as the bedroom or wherever the urge strikes her, or me! If push comes to squeeze,. . the waters edge,. . Under the blanket at 8.30 summer time-time, the swimming pool!? .Well All I know is the more meat she eats is the more I have to perform a feat that will last through the memories of the last treat. So I say it anyway. Eat more salad and Caribbean macaroni and cheese pie. Lawd!! She’s go’ kill me before I reach eighty two. Oh well. . . Just another day in paradise

O Boy! O Boy ! Stone soup

_________

A Dammed sight better than Nutten’

Is freshly made Stone Soup

Culled from any Round Stone

Found in an untended Garden

Boiled in Plain tap water

For a while with some stuff added

 

Stirred with a Hambone If you have one

With a carrot thrown in

If you have one

Or a Potato or Pumpkin

If you have one

Or a cabbage or maybe Turnips

If you happen to have one or both

Or green peppers or Collards

If you have some

Or an Onion even or altogether

 

And the best part of Stone soup

is this

You can use the same stone

More than once

So save it.

 

 

Re-invent JFK’s Peace Core

To the Pollyanna media out here in broadcast land, who are always trying to tear down the United States of America to the size of a miniature paper tiger, at the same time that they are portraying their/our own country as a Macy’s Day parade size Pinada, please take notice how quickly the vacuum of no democratic vigilance is replaced by violence, vigilante mobs, chaos, mass hysteria and that the calm civility of reasonable persons is replace by various degrees of Hell on earth as is illustrated in the Middle East. The rightness of might is always waiting to display itself on earth but this is the crutch of Pollyanna: to have that crutch ever ready for use, the twin Big Sticks of quiet talk/diplomacy and the persuasive back up of dependable overwhelming force, for good. . The Pollyanna media should use the one step and most effective course available to every person, every nation, and that is the education of despotic national leaders and their countries. Stop preaching to the choir here in America, and rehabilitate to sensibility not encourage and exaggerate the errant but repairable gene in the human psyche that runs rampant whenever the educated among the species become lethargic and irresolute in their duty to the rest of the human societies. As the madness of militants become closer to home it’s easy to see that American citizens are not the problem concerning world peace. Our ’forces’ have always picked up the slack whenever and wherever the force of individual and hence national intellectualism has become dormant. Stop preaching to the choir.. Re-invent JFK’s Peace Core.

 

But is it art? Comments to a ‘Times’ article in 1997

OK precursive. Now that you’ve ruined my coming out party. Sincere thanks.  And here’s why,your reply to this “But is it art?” article in the  ‘Times in 1997, was going to be my finale, after posting a few more comments from big wigs in the art world. I am quite lazy you see. I sense that either you are a bigger wig than them all,those commenters, or as simple a man as I am.  In a word, art is nothing but  and “ILLUSTRATION “.  Your post  is a summation of all the comments that could be made about art.————–

THis was the hook for an article in the “Times” dated Oct 22 1997. The article was sub headed; “It’s not a new question,but it bears repeating. When art-world denizens are asked to define ‘art’, the outcome is predictable.” . . It was a piece by Amei Wallach. Here are the framed opening paragraphs. “The […]

 

Not all subjective experiences are as universally meaningful as others, not all products are created with the skill of an experienced craftsperson, not all endeavors are undertaken with the attention and patience of someone who feels their very soul is dependent on outcomes, not all projects require internal transformation. The question isn’t really something ‘is art’ or ‘not art’, it is whether it is ‘meaningful art’, or ‘skillful art’, or ‘heart and soulful art’, or ‘transformational art’, or (dare be asked) ‘useful art’. Art without meaning, skill, soul/heart, utility… that does not fundamentally affect it’s viewer… is still art, but most wouldn’t consider it worthy of hanging in a gallery or being performed in public. Most wouldn’t exchange money (or even time) for it. That said, some seem to strive towards hollow superficiality as if it were spiritual enlightenment

Western culture is still trying to reconcile and integrate the concepts of meaningful-meaninglessness and effortless-effort. I look forward to the future where we try to intentionally balance that ‘great art comes only when egos get out of the way’ with our focus on ego-development and reinforcement. The great future Neo-Buddhist-Epoch of Western Culture—————–/

So in essence, a stick figure scotch-taped to a refrigerator door is art  Q.E.D by a child.

Beware of the Doggie. Doggie ? !

A prominetly displayed store bought sign on a newly built, newly occupied Raised Ranch house on Route 8 outside New Haven Ct. read ;  ” Beware of the Dog “.  

Some days later under that sign, scrawled on a piece of cardboard was written  “Blow Horn ”  A few days later under that sign was written on another piece of cardboard. ” Stay in car ”                        . . . .  Need I say more?

God has a morbd sense of humor sometimes

Funny thing these cosmic junctures called coincidences. The first blog I read this morning is a blog on WordPress by Rich Muller(Which every one should read) dated Friday March 15, entitled “ A Short Story About Friendship.” I had a similar but opposite experience following my Helicopter’s crash in an engagement in Viet Nam. Presumably left for dead I came to after being unconscious and found myself hanging from my seat belt. The chopper was laying on it’s left side and there was no one around. When I unhooked and climbed out, I landed between the feet of Evans our crew chief. The chopper had flipped on it’s left side and pinned him underneath. Fuel was pouring from the drainage sump so I immediately tried to stop the flow with the palm of my hand. Still there was a lot under pressure, spewing fuel out onto the ground and of course around my boots. If help didn’t come soon there was going to be big, big fireworks. But where was the Pilot and co- pilot. After a while an observation Helicopter came in low an slow, hovered and Ferrizzi, if I remember his name right threw me down a small fire extinguisher, instead of jumping out and helping to get the helicopter off Evans. Eventually it happened, blue clouds of flame hugging the ground around my boots were spreading, slowly, and I knew that any minute they would reach the rocket pods that pinned Evans, and the explosions would begin. I could do nothing more but get myself killed waiting for help so I climbed back into the chopper, grabbed my rifle and a couple ammo belts and headed for cover. About twenty yards into the clearing before the tree line I heard someone yell. “Mack! Mack! Over here.” Unbelievably, the whole Blue platoon, five rifle squads were deployed in the tree line and no one came to help us all that time. I never questioned why and no one spoke about the crash and that was the end of that. Except that we were told not to write to Evan’s family because his body was blown to bits, and his remains had to be identified positively by the Army. I saw what was left of his barbecued rib cage. Nothing else was left of him. Harvey especially was repeatedly reminded not to write because he lived on the same block as Evans and knew the Evans family. Why no one came to try to help us? I’ll never know for sure. They feared the explosion associated with aircraft crashes? In Rich Mullers story, one man risked his life for his friend. In Evan’s story a whole platoon left us to die and did not try to recover my unconscious body. Thank God I came to in time. But that’s just the way war is.

 

Anna Mosca’s post

This is the greatest metaphor for our short seconds of life on earth by cosmic standards, I have ever seen

Apr26

California Notebooks, 2014

Posted on April 26, 2014 by anna mosca

Standard

*

the art of handling time

handling an illusion if we
think of it to have

the impression
to immobilize it in

a moment of presence

when everything is clear by
the second we may say

.

wishful familiar
(((((sound of water
falling

back on itself

a fountain springing
up in a middle of a lake

occupying space for
a second even less
never still

a constant being
so let it be ))))
.

Speak for yourself.

So many of our blogging buddies use the phrase, “ We are all sinners.” as if reminding us of some Theory already proven and Q>E>D‘d. Well speak for yourself all you sinners I say. I am as much a sinner as the planted orange seed that grows and ‘yields’ orange fruit is a sinner. And the same for strawberries and apple seeds ‘yielding’ fruit of their own kind are sinners. Now if an orange seed was to ‘yield’ a crop of strawberries every year or a snake is born with two heads and ‘yields’ a circus thousands of dollars, is the orange tree and the snake sinners??! Who made them that way? I didn’t make myself, I wouldn’t know how to. If you see yourselves as sinners that’s your prerogative, you sin conscious people. All I know for sure about myself is that I am a humble earthling at the whim and fancy of all creation/creators, and I gratefully appreciate everything in and about life and my unknown lifespan.. . (Note the use of the word, Yield )