daily scratchpad

(1)

Quite funny: Evolving religion? Also quite funny: The old in and out. In spades. Whew.

Rows and flows of angel's hair... a serious look at Mother Nature. Amazing.

Seeing Evolution at work... would certainly interest Edward O Wilson, author of 'Consilience.'
Speaking of scientists: herewith an interview with Richard Dawkins, author of 'The God Delusion.' I highly recommend both authors. Both books sound very interesting too. I have yet to read them.

(7)

Returning to current interests, I must admit that I was amused by Chavez's description of Bush as, 'The Devil.' There is much evidence to support such a point of view, but I would prefer to think of Bush in less inflamatory terms: Bush is The Anti-Christ, not The Devil. Bush is evil but not that evil. Not quite.

As I see it, Bush is proceeding 'logically' given current events. This is a problem. But the greater problem is that Bush's believers 'follow Bush.' Without 'believers' Bush is a moron. Therefore Bush's 'Believers' rescue him from absurdity. That is the great problem.

Bush is one dumb muthafuka. I think we can all agree on that. The problem is that there are millions of folks who agree with Him.

As I sit here typing this stuff it occurs to me that you are wondering where I will go. Fuck Bush! 'Where will you go?!'

'You are leaving Denver. Where will you go?'

'How soon will you leave (boom)?'

'Where can I meet you? I love you!'

(6)

I eventually learned how to grow Marijuana in order to free us from Mark and his 'connections.' And I was present at at least two of Mark's encounters (boom) with drug dealers. He definitely had the connections, and those encounters were totally fascinating. Although I would eventually nullify Mark's Marijuana Connections by growing my own, I had no hope at all of nullifying his LSD Connection. The result of that was that eventually there was no more LSD.

But by that time I had done LSD between twenty and thirty times. The girls must have done it about ten times (tap). Kootch only did it once: she did about a quarter (boom) hit one day and her experience was very negative. She never did it again.

Meanwhile we all lived very pleasant lives! Very normal lives! Drugs were not a problem. In fact, the most problematic drug at the time was probably my booze. Kathy's marriage seemed to prosper; Jenny graduated High School; Kootch became a real star at K-MART. I plodded along at Honeywell. I was, in fact, the weak link in the family (boom) for unknown reasons.

Here we are. We must be watching Love Boat.

(5)

What a night! In 'one fell swoop,' so to say, we had all been ushered into the drug culture of the late '70s. I did not know it at the time but Psilocibin Muchrooms were in store; LSD-25 was in store. There would eventually come temptations to indulge in Speed, Cocaine, and even Heroin. I would resist those those temptations because I knew about all those drugs, having read extensively on the subject - especially after my first encounter with that powerful Pot.

It dawned on me that we as a family suddenly had a major problem: Drugs. And I was the culprit! Our girls would never have tried drugs on their own. Never! But I (with Mark's assistance) had introduced them. What to do?

I began a drug education program: Marijuana and LSD (tap) only: no injectible drugs; no snortable drugs. No drugs except under parental control (sounds ludicrous, of course, but that was the situation). Kathy and Jenny appeared (tap) to follow those instructions.

Meanwhile I had my very own drug problem which was obvious to the girls: booze. Kathy eventually followed me down that path. I don't know about Jenny.

What a quagmire!

(4)

Here is Daddy, mommy, Charlie, and Kootch. This was taken during Kootch's 'afro phase.' For some mysterious reason (boom) Kootch wore an 'afro' for about a year or two.

Daddy's name is Mark Sandstrom. Mark introduced us to drugs in the sense that he was able to connect. It was back in the 'Vietnam era' of the late '70s. I was very interested in Pot back in those times because I considered myself part of the 'counterculture.' I had read a lot about it and wanted to try it. I was also interested in Acid. I had heard great things about both Pot and Acid (tap).

Mark made it known to us (as our son-in-law) that he had drug connections: he could get pot!

I was skeptical by that time: I had tried 'Pot' already from two different sources. Both encounters yielded nothing. I had begun to think that Pot was actually a myth. Mark assured me that Pot was not a myth. So I agreed to try some Pot which Mark supplied from his 'sources.'


One fine night Mark produced his Pot. He rolled it into a Joint. He lit up. He passed it around. We all took a 'hit.' Mark and I took several hits. My thinking at the time was that if there was anything at all to this, 'Pot' then I'd better inhale as much of it as possible. Kootch and the kids did not inhale as much as did Mark and I. I had probably already had a beer or two as was my custom at the time. Within minutes We all began to feel the Pot. Kootch got up and pulled the plug on the telephone. I made my way to the familyroom couch. I don't know exactly what the kids did. One thing soon became clear to me: I was suddenly higher than I had ever been in my life. I literally hung on to the couch for dear life. Time slowed down - waaaay down. It was my first encounter with that particular attribute of a Marijuana high. I watched tv in a kind of dreamlike state for the next two hours. Finally I came down.

(3)

This is Charlie and me (stomp). we got along famously. I remember carrying him around the house from room to room. As we entered each room I would encourage Charlie to flip the light switch just inside. Charlie was totally delighted by the game of 'flip the switch and the lights turn on.' I think it was his introduction to the concept of 'personal power.' At least, that is what I intended it to be. I hoped that Charlie would begin to realize that he was powerful.

You are seeing a 'post-Acid' photograph here, I'm sure. Charlie, of course, never did Acid. By the way, Charlie got his name from me: I took 'Charles' as my 'confirmatio(stomp)n name. When Kathy asked me for a suggestion I said, 'Charlie.' Kathy knew, of course, that her name had become 'lost in translation.' Was Kathy trying somehow to redeem that loss? Maybe so.

(2)

Speaking of grandchildren, meet Charlie!

Charlie was our first grandchild. We all loved him of course. When I first saw Charlie naked I was appalled to see that he had converted to Judaism while still in the neo-natal unit. I thought the decision somewhat premature. I asked his mother about it and she replied that her husband (tap) was also circumcised. I remember thinking that since her husband was not Jewish... why was he circumcised? I would later discover what I have called 'the greatest scam of the 20th Century:' Circumcision for 'health reasons.' But at that time I was at a loss. I did not, of course, ask Charlie's father why he had been circumcised. It was his business. So we accepted Charlie for what he was. I remember thinking that Charlie would have a tough time masturbating his way through the hormonal storms of 12-18. Poor Charlie.

(1)

Well, that last entry is somewhat dubious. It might have been a 'pre-Acid' photograph. I don't know. In any case I did not become interested in 'Eastern Religion' until much later in the mid-late '80s and early '90s. The note on the photo was certainly done after I became acquainted with Zen.

Today a woman asked me about my grandchildren. Did I have any? How many? I told her that I had at least one, hoping that would satisfy her (boom). We gabbed another minute or so while she told me about her's (one - another on the way). She then asked me again: 'How many grandchildren? (boom)' I was forced to reply, 'I don't Know. My daughters and I are estranged. It's very tragic.' She seemed satisfied. 'Because of a stalker' I (tap) said. She seemed satisfied.

It was an embarrassing moment. The woman was a dental assistant. I am in the process of getting new dentures prior to leaving Denver. (That in itself is a fascinating story which I will relate to you later.) Over the two months or so that I have been involved with these nice people we have sort of 'got to know each other' a little bit. Not much. Just enough to discuss grandchildren.

So, are you equally curious? Do you also want to know? I just asked Kootch. The answer is five: two boys, three girls. Great-grandchildren? Kootch doesn't know. When did she last check? About three years ago. So now we all know. And the next time I see Marci, Marci will know too.

(8)

The Great Zen Master. That is what is written (certainly in jest) on the back of the photo. That was me in those days. I had certainly done Acid by the time this photo was taken, and Marijuana. I was 'a stranger in a strange world,' working for Honeywell Information Systems.

I was a human being who had been astonished.

I found myself incapable of expressing to my fellow man the glorious information which I had discovered while doing Acid. I would later find that such information was essentially untransferable; that is to say that the information was of such esoteric nature that it needed to be experienced: it could not be transferred.

I would like to take this opportunity to bring your attention to this idea: there is important information which can not be transferred. This important information must be experienced. Indeed, this information is ineffable.

Furthermore this information is very important. Very important.

(7)

Jenny and friend. The notes say that the photograph was taken in the middle of 1977 in the 8th grade. This was before Acid. We began doing Acid in late 1978 (or '79?). My memories of these two girls is that they were typical 'pre-marrieds.' That is to say that they were both heterosexual teens who were experimenting with 'sex.' By that I mean that they probably practiced the art of kissing in anticipation of more serious interactions with the opposite sex. They loved each other.

The blond moved away after our family became involved with drugs. I think they went to Idaho.

(6)

Here is Kathy. Lovely Kathy. I think this was taken after her braces had been removed (boom). Both Kathy and Jenny had braces following 'necessary extractions.' Were they really necessary? I think not. But that is another story.

Kathy was fundamentally important in my life because she was my link to Acid; and I, of course, was fundamentally important to Kathy. Kathy was my experiment, but there is also truth to the idea that I, in turn, was Kathy's experiment.

Beautiful Kathleen! We will never meet again. Never. Ever.

It is sufficient for me to remember Kathleen as my offspring. I don't need a closer idea. My family was disrupted by a stalker.

(5)

Since I'm here I should include pictures of
Jenny during this time. Isn't she lovely? Both our daughters were lovely girls. I think Kathy was already married by the time she did Acid, but Jenny was still in high school. You could say that Acid was part of her education in the form of, 'home schooling.' I take full responsibility, of course, for that. Was it wise? Foolish? I will probably never know. One thing is very clear: during this time in our lives I was the master, the moral and philosophical head of household. I chose the path less traveled. My children were my experiment. The most interesting thing about this 'path' I chose is that 'my children' were really Kootch's children. I was acting on what was ultimately an illusion: they were actually hers, not mine.

This fact became obvious when neither of them expressed any interest in my love of airplanes. Nor did either of them express any interest in my love of chess. They were their mother's daughters, not mine. They were beautiful nevertheless. I chalked it all up to their 'feminality.'

And I was right, I think, in that evaluation: they were her's, not mine! Never mine!

(4)

This is a picture of
'Hewey, Louise, and Dewey, according' to the notes on the back of the photo. They were three Marijuana plants I grew in what was Jenny's room after Kathy had moved out and Jenny had inherited her room. I began growing Ganga in the basement but that did not work out because the plants got ravaged by mites. Jenny's room was mite free, and these three plants (from seeds of 'Colombian Gold') produced a large fluffy bag of Pot about a foot in diameter. We smoked it for years. There were no 'buds.' The Pot was composed entirely of crushed dried leaves. It was a 'moderate intoxicant,' perfect for capping a booze high or 'strangening up' an Acid high. The remnants of this batch ended up in the potty after Kootch became disenchanted with getting high: she flushed it all down the toilet! What a waste!

I would later grow another similar batch of Ganja in our current apartment with Kootch's blessing. However Kootch would never again indulge in Marijuana. I smoked it all, over the years, always as an adjunct to booze. Booze and Marijuana equals Mystical Experience!

The tin foil was used to reflect light from the gro-lamps. I bathed those glorious plants in a 24-hour illumination. They eventually rewarded me with stunning insights.

(3)

Here is more Kootch: As you can see she is a lovely woman. This was taken by me in our Southglenn home on South Franklin Street. I was working for Honeywell Information Systems at the time as a computer technician and Kootch was working for K-MART (the one in the previous air photo) as an accountant. This is one of my favorite photographs of Kootch.

We enjoyed great sex in those and previous days. Kootch was a great fuck. You might be interested that I never questioned Kootch about her cunt or tried to view her cunt. I was content to feel her cunt and to fuck it. I thought that the exact nature of her cunt was somehow personal, not my business. I never saw Kootch's cunt.

Back when we were living on Franklin Street I onced asked her to pee in her nylon panties in the shower room while I watched. She agreed. She squatted down, legs spread, and peed in her pants, grinning. 'Do you really like this nonsense!?' she seemed to be saying.

Meanwhile I was totally focused on her crotch. As the yellow stuff infected her glorious panties and began dripping on the shower floor I was satisfied that I had made a determination about myself: I loved peeing in my own pants but was not particularly enthralled by my woman peeing in hers.

(2)

Further examples of God's love of violence can be found all over the Old and Odius Testament: The Great Flood; The plagues of Egypt; Sodom and Gemorah... and I could go on and on but you get the idea.

The most damning of all God's sins against Humanity must certainly be the creation of Hell. Hell is the place of eternal suffering. God created Hell for the purpose of torturing forever those creatures of his creation who pissed Him off for various reasons. Hell is the ultimate violence. The creator of Hell is the ultimate Creature of Violence. There is none more violent.

In fact, even in theory and speculation there is not a more violent concept than Hell.

Contrast this vision of Human destiny with that of Science: Science suggests that you are born, you will live your life, and you will die. You will die forever. You will never return. Nothing of you will remain. Your 'constituents' in the form of the elements which composed you will certainly remain: they are indestructible. But 'You' were only the 'form' those elements took for a time. That form is ephemeral.

This is a simple, brutal view of life. But notice that it is not at all a violent or malicious view. Are you suffering? It will end. Are you ecstatic? It will end. Are you bored? It will end. Are you horney? It will end.

This is the essential difference between the religious view and the scientific view.

(1)

The pope's actual address. Some interesting reactions here (Pharyngula) and here (Sam Harris).

I was attracted to the following quote to which pope Benny does not seem to object:

'Violence is incompatible with the nature of God and the nature of the soul. "God", he says, "is not pleased by blood - and not acting reasonably (σὺν λόγω) is contrary to God's nature. Faith is born of the soul, not the body. Whoever would lead someone to faith needs the ability to speak well and to reason properly, without violence and threats... To convince a reasonable soul, one does not need a strong arm, or weapons of any kind, or any other means of threatening a person with death...".' Pope Benny apparently agrees that 'violence is against the Nature of God.'

This is manifestly untrue. According to the Very Old and Odius Testament itself, God is pleased by blood! Very pleased! So pleased, in fact, by blood that He became something of a joke in Jerusalem: they called him, 'Lord of the Flies' because all that blood spilled by temple sacrifices attracted thousands of flies.

God is very pleased by the penile blood of infants and converts. Even if a convert to Judaism is already circumcised God demands at least a drop of penile blood.

The Christians are well aware of God's penchant for blood: God condemned 'His only Son' to suffer, bleed, and die on Earth for man's sins against 'The Father' (God). God was unable to simply forgive and forget: He needed blood.

Violence against animals produces blood; violence against infants produces blood; violence against 'His only Son' produces blood. Obviously violence is part of God's Nature: God is violent!

(7)

I know that you are out there somewhere. And in an ideal world we could hook up without too much bother. But I - unfortunately - have 'overwhelming baggage:' a Stalker. You do not want to enter this world of mine. So keep your distance. Find somebody else. Possibly in the future I will solve this problem, in which case you might find me attractive. I would love that, but don't wait for me: I might never solve this problem of mine.

In the meantime I imagine how you are, how you might be:

You are woman. Your personality is your most attractive feature. You might have wide hips - might not. You might have great tits - might not. You might be a skinny bitch, might not. You might be a fat-ass ho, might not. But the thing I will like about you most will be your symmetry. Symmetry is beauty. You have symmetry in body and mind. Symmetry is your most appealing characteristic.

Celebrate your symmetry.

I will.

(6)

You are wondering, of course, whether I am considering a 'change of venue' so to say. Yes. I am. I am open to a new alliance. Are you (tap) a possible candidate? Really? Do you really think so? Then check yourself. Here are the minimal requirements:

You must be female between the ages of 68 and 74. You must be 'young.'

You must be a 'free thinker.' It is not neccessary for you to agree with me. That might be boring.
You must love sex. I don't mean by that that you must be a 'copulation freak.' Not at all. But you must love feeling the warm body of a man and the warm emotions of a man.

You must be intelligent and knowlegable, considering your advanced age (damn this is fun!)

You must be able to tolerate my sexual (and other) foibles. That is to say that you must be able to tolerate my 'panty fetish.' You must never try to retrain me to love jockey shorts. Or boxers. Not gonna happen.

You can probably potty-train me. Really. My mother did it and I relapsed. The right woman can do it again. Are you that woman?

If you think that you meet these minimal requirements then by all means stay tuned. You will receive further instructions in the near future.

(5)

Here is Kootch gazing out on the world from her apartment (her's, not mine). Seeing her standing there and admiring her glorious butt I advised her not to move: to wait 'til I could get a snapshot. She complied. I got the camera and snapped her.
In the lower right is her bicycle which I presented to her at least five years ago. Unfortunately she no longer rides with me. Possibly she fears an accident. I don't know.

(4)

Time to abandon politics and philosophy and such and return to photography. This is Kootch relaxing in her bedroom. To her upper left is one tv set. To her upper right is another, which is connected to a Dish which which delivers Japan TV. Her bed is in the lower right. She lays on a brown rug which is the original rug which came with her apartment back in about 1983.

(3)

Debra LaFave is much in the news recently. You remember her as the teacher who seduced a 14 year old male student. The law called it, 'rape.' Yet she escaped with only a long probation, including house arrest. Was 'justice' served? I think so. Matt Lauer had an interesting interview with her recently in which she gave her side of the story, and I found myself agreeing with her point of view. Yes, Debbie was naughty, but her 'victim' loved it! I found myself wishing that one of my high school teachers had been Debbie LaFave. But they were mostly nuns. The rest were priests. So I masturbated my way through high school. No pussy whatsoever.

The last note refers to Today. I like the new line-up. I also watch the CBS Evening News, of course, as usual. I watch it in real time, recording NBC on tivo and ABC on tape.

(2)

Other notes:

Pluto: 134340!?
Pope irritates Islam
Debra LaFave
Fast Al, Kabocha Chan, and Tutu LaRue

Pluto has been demoted to a six digit number. The times they are a-changin'.

And this is interesting: Pope Benny has irritated Islam! Naughty-naughty: 'Thou shalt not piss off another religion... especially if it is huge. Tiny religions... maybe. Humongous religions... uhuh. Bad idea.' I say this in all earnestness. There is a huge difference between a pantywaist like me (for example) pissing off The Jews, and The Pope pissing off Islam. El Pappa represents billions. Such a representative must not insult other billions. Such an act would be extremely irresponsible. Do you want to 'influence Islam?' Here is the way: praise Islam. Remind the world that there was a time when Islamic culture was the sole repository of scientific knowlege, which knowlege would have been lost to Humanity forever had it not been for Islamic scholars. That is the way. Islam will lap it up. And as Islam cogitates on the obvious reversal of an ancient situation Islam will wonder: 'What happened?' Islam will then begin an in-depth investigation... of itself! Do you want to irritate Islam and praise Islam at the same time? Then remind Islam of the teachings of Omar Kahyyam:

Indeed the Idols I have lov'd so long
Have done my Credit in this World much wrong:
Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow cup,
And sold my Reputation for a Song.

(1)

Whoa... Gotta admit that I don't remember those last few posts. No wonder My Saturday hangover was so intense. I love everybody when I'm drunk.

Iranian-American Space Blog. I wrote about this woman recently: Pussimus Maximus, if you will pardon the expression.

It's been a political week. The Prez stated that the current war is 'The decisive idiological struggle of the 21st century.' How would he know? it's only 2006.

When asked, 'Why Iraq?' the Prez stated, 'Because Iraq was a threat.' Correct: Iraq was indeed a threat... to Iran!

And in a possibly related scenerio, Harvard - which produced seven US presidents - has made the decision to end 'early admissions,' a practice which favors rich C-students. Interesting. Did Harvard come to the painful conclusion that, 'Seven is one too many?' I think so. Hooray for Harvard.

In the personal realm, I chose 'The Zulus' to replace 'The Russians' in C-III. The reason is that Gerash never seemed to have a problem with me beating up on The Zulus. So far my choice is working: no stomps from above. I have not attacked The Zulus yet, though. Will Gerash have a change of heart? Will he learn to love The Zulus? We shall see. But I have already attacked both England and France. France had the oil I needed, so I took a small French island with oil on it. The poor Brits were destined to become either French or Roman citizens eventually, so I 'destroyed' The Brits. I am still feeling guilty about that but I can assure you that my English citizens are among the world's happiest folks. The Persians and Barfalonians were my early victims, as usual. The French are still furious with me: no more fluttering eyelashes during negotiations. But the music is still beautiful. I will avoid destroying The French because the music would die with them. I won't play without the music.

(7)

On that possibly interesting sexual note I will leave you for the time being. Before signing off, howerer, I feel that it is my duty to inform you that as it dawned on me that God might possibly be a female, my penis enjoyed an interesting 'ressurgence.'

Do you know what I mean?

Feeling, in fact, that in this particular category of Human Behavior I could get away with the most outrageous questions to Diety I asked God one final question:

(6)

This brings us to yet another 'Interview With God:'

----------
gd: Hello?
me Congratulations!
gd: Hello?
me: Did I stutter?
gd: Hello?
me: (shouting) Ratassicus!
gd: You again. What is your problem?
me: I am in a philosophical mood. Thought I would give you a call.
gd: You're drunk.
me: Exactly.
gd: Do you realize how boring you are when you're drunk?
me: Apparently not. Am I intolerable?
gd: Almost, not quite.
me: Thank... You... um...
gd: God. My Name is God. Straighten up.
me: You know, of course, that I love You.
gd: I know. Make your point. You should not be contacting Me in your condition.
me: Here is my point: I think that You are actually a Female. Am I correct?
me: PLEASE tell me that I am correct.
----------

(5)

Today is the 40th anniversary of Star Trek. We arrived in Denver in '66. Therefore we got in on Star Trek at the very beginning. We all loved it and watched it religiously. The only other TV program which comes to mind in this same category is, ... Carl Sagan's Cosmos.

We loved them all. But it seems to me now that I think back on all of those glorious episodes, that the singlemost memorable (and possibly 'important') episode was the episode where Spock was required to erase Kirk's poisonous memory of an unfortunate past. Spock put his hand on Kirk's head and whispered something like, '... forget'

It struck me immediately that this was glorious advice: you must forget!

You must forget.

(4)

Our next subject concerns 'torture' (tap). What is 'torture?' We all know that the best (tap) torture is 'sensual torture:' Applying the flame of a blowtorch to the lips, nose, and eyelids of a 'subject' is 'torture' (boom), for example. Torture is an activity which (thump) is designed to inflict some sort of pain on one individual (or individuals) while at the same time rewarding another (or other) individual(s) with feedback. Torture is complex. If you think that you would inflict torture merely for the sake of causing pain to an enemy you are wrong.

Why bother? Who cares? Why waste your time and energy? What good would it do you?

The rewards for inflicting torture reside in the psychology of the torturer. He (She) does Hir activity not to inflict pain on The Other, but to Pleasure Hirself: the torturer suffers from an inability to enjoy the usual human things. In the mind of The Torturer the suffering of The Other gives pleasure. Otherwise, why bother? Who cares? Who gives a shit? Fuck them all. Let them rot!

The only other form of torture is 'psychological (tap) torture.' There is no other form of torture. 'Spiritual torture' is only a sub-category of 'psychological torture.'

Are you afraid of burning in Hell (thump) forever and forever? Then you are a victim of Psychological Torture.

Blame your mother.

(3)

We now enter the esoteric realm of God, yet again. Many folks are fond of saying, quite frequently, 'God forbid...' What does this really mean? Are they addressing those words to God as some sort of advice? Are they only expressing their disapproval of the subject matter at hand? (Much stomping-booming above as I write this.) Another favorite expression of this particular group goes something like, 'From you lips to God's ears...'

Is it their intention only to appear sympathetic in advance? Are those expressions little more than emotional-political ploys designed to elicit 'love' from possible victims of the subject matter? Are those expressions merely 'rhetoric?' Is it merely meaningless bullshit?

I think so. I think that those particularly tripe phrases are an indication that the utterer is mostly a politician devoid of deep emotional involvement in the subject under discussion. I think that the utterer knows that God forbids nothing: never did, never will, and furthermore that God does not have ears: God is deaf.

God forbids nothing. That much is clear.

(2)

Whew! Am I confused! Believe me, folks, screwing around between three blogs while drunk is not a good idea. I think I ought to continue with 'blog points' here and now. Maybe I can get it all out of the way. Next subject is, 9-11 fiction:

Apparently there is a new account of 9-11 coming out which is a 'docudrama' (mixture of fact and fiction) which suggests that the Clinton Administration allowed Bin Laden to 'escape' a situation wherein US Forces had him in their sites.

Bullshit.

What really happened is this: The Bush Administration had Bin Laden surrounded and trapped in Afghanistan. The Bush Administration could have captured or killed Bin Laden. But TBA chose instead to allow BL to escape into Pakistan. Why? Here is why:

TBA figured that if the architect of 9-11 were actually dead or in custody then TBA would have a difficult time convincing Americans of the need to invade Iraq. Bush let Bin Laden escape because Bush, under some sort of Oedipal Spell, needed to depose Saddam. The American People would never have tolerated the invasion of Iraq after Bin Laden was captured or dead. No way.

And TBA knew it. Hence the invasion of Iraq. Hence our current dilemma.

Suck on that, Dubya! You C-student Idiot!

( I should hasten to point out, of course, that this is only my stupid opinion.)

(1)

Good news for circumcates, here. Modern culture apparently values the ability to conjure up quickie orgasms! Cultural progress, folks; this in spite of the recent (20th century) circumcision frenzy (for, uh, 'health reasons'). I have never tried any of the 'modern lubricants,' but I presume they are a significant improvement on the ancient standby, olive oil.

I seem to have another list of 'blogging points:' (thump)

----------
Katie Couric
9-11 fiction?
God forbids? Really?
What is torture?
Star Trek=40
--------

Have you noticed that this blog seems to have taken over the main stream of my thinking lately, leaving poor Non Serviam discussing the state of greenery on the Highline Canal Trail? This might be a telling argument against mixing blogs. Might not.

(1)

Amazing scupltures in Russia.

I was thinking of calling this Onion piece, 'Maybe Ray had a Point,' but then thought better of it in light of the Erwin tragedy. And here is another Onion masterpiece!

Bushisms here. This is hilarious! I have most of the interview on tivo.

Vatican evolution discussions.

Political Drag Queens.

Naughty HP. Before going online I routinely delete all hp processes. I am amazed at the sheer amount of hp crap that boots up with my Windows system. There must be twenty megabytes of it.

I like this poster.

New address for Clicked.

The Boogeyman in Iran.

See you again Friday.

(6)

Since I seem to be wondering about the idea that us humans could be the product of Nature, while most religionists seem to abhor the idea, I feel it is my duty as a human being to give you idiots out there the benefit of my thinking: You are idiots. You have no clue. You furthermore are surrounded by other idiots who think just like you. Allow me to tell you The Truth:

We live in an amoral universe. We have no 'immortal souls.' There is no such thing as Heaven or Hell. When we die we die forever. There is no 'Supernature,' only Nature. Matter is immortal, and so is energy, but the particular organization of matter which defines you is ephemeral. That particular constellation of atoms and molecules is unique and will never be repeated. You will never rise again, never, ever. Once you leave this glorious Universe you will never return.

You should consider yourselves extremely priveleged to have achieved self-awareness. You should consider your state of self-awareness as a 'gift from the god.'

In fact, I think that you have a duty in that respect: you are, by virtue of your consciousness, obliged to acknowlege the glorious nature of Nature to your sisters and brothers... if you can.

I can.

(5)

I just reread, 'He Never Said a Word.' Here is a tidbit I forgot to mention: after we tied the airplane down at Stapleton I noticed that there was an icesickle on the nose spinner. It was solid ice, about an inch long. I don't remember any other ice on the airplane.

A personal note relating to a concept to which I referred recently, 'tolerance' (stomp): 'Tolerance' is real. 'Tolerance' is as real with Alcohol as it is with LSD. I have verified this fact again tonight. Two days ago I wrote my usual stuff on 13 beers and one shot of whiskey. We all loved it, but two days later (tonight) I find myself a victim of 'tolerance.' There was no 'magic feeling' as I downed my first few beers tonight and I knew that the culprit was, 'tolerance.' Let this be a lesson to you alcoholics out there.

Going back to the pope and George Weigel concerning the Dignity of Man, I have to laugh at Weigel, at least. Weigel is a typical religious fool who can not see that if all men will live forever then man is not special: man is a generic product of Dubious Deity, who will either burn His designs forever as punishment, or reward them with the ability to spout flowery Latin praises.

What George Weigel and the pope and all other religious nutcakes fail to understand about Human Beings is that our very mortality is the thing that makes us holy. We are one of a kind. We will never do this again. We will never return. We have our one chance. We can try to understand Nature before we die, or we can lose ourselves in egoistic pursuits, ignoring Nature.

To paraphrase a certain poet whom I admire, 'The proper study of mankind is...' Nature.

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This is a photo of Six Eight Bravo at Littleton airport. This is the airplane in which I took the test for my Flight Instructor rating. It is an 85 hp Aeronca Champ with an electric starter. The test was taken at Jeffco airport. I remember only two things about that test. I was flying (of course) from the rear seat:

Before we got into the airplane the FAA Inspector asked me whether we ever did aerobatics in that airplane. As he asked the question (he was doing the pilot-in-command pre-flight inspection, and seemed a bit worried about the trailing edges of the wings) he kept pushing and pulling gently on the trailing edges of the wings. I replied that our 'aerobatics' were mostly spins and an occasional loop or roll - in this particular airplane. My answer satisfied him and we took off for the test. I am sure that he knew of our reputation as 'aerobatic specialists,' at 'Avalon Aviation.'

Just after we landed - a 'wheel landing' directed by the Inspector - the tower directed us to 'turn left at the next taxiway.' I ignored the instruction because I was fully involved in trying to get the tail down and didn't even 'process' the tower's instruction. As we turned off the runway at the next taxiway the FAA Inspector advised tower that in these kinds of airplanes (taildraggers) it was unwise to direct pilots to make turns while the tail was still up.

I passed the test with flying colors, of course.

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Here is another 'airplane story' from the Columbine days: I think this happened during the fall or winter. We were flying back to Columbine from the 'training area' east of Littleton Airport. Ground speed was very low and we were having to correct for a west wind. As we approached Columbine it became obvious that the wind at our altitude was very high from the northwest. We speculated that the wind was so strong that we might be able to actually 'hover.' So we turned into the wind, which was approximately out of 300 degrees, and found ourselves almost motionless. I got the idea of trying to hover over Columbine airport. My passenger agreed. We climbed to about 9000 feet (Columbine traffic pattern altitude was exactly 6500 feet). We eventually arrived over Columbine, but our ground speed was so low that I wondered whether we might be able to achieve a negative ground speed! We flew to about the end of runway 30, then lowered the flaps to 40 degrees. I was flying the airplane, so this was probably not a training session. I 'hung it on the prop' at about 55 knots. The airplane was in an almost continuous 'stall buffet' and the nose would drop from time to time. We slowly drifted backwards the entire length of the Columbine runway. So far as I know, we are the only persons who ever flew a Cherokee 140 backwards.

Who was with me? I don't remember. I might have been alone.

(2)

For what seems like years now, my attention has been attracted to this airplane. Every time I drive north on south Broadway I see it. What is the story behind it? Why is that luscious female imprisoned, so to say, on the roof of a building. Shouldn't she be soaring above us? I think so. But instead she just sits there on the roof, wings clipped, like an angel enduring punishment. What is her story?

She looks to me like a twin-engined ultralight capable of handling one pilot. I like the look of her. There is obviously plenty of directional control with the two rudders, and plenty of attitude control as well, given the generous elevator. So what is her problem? Wings too short? Engines too small? My impression is that her owner is afraid to fly her, preferring to show her off as some sort of 'trophy mate.'

So she just sits there, looking beautiful. What a waste.

By the way, I took this photograph today on the way back from King Soopers, just for you.

(1)

MSNBC has the usual 'Month in Space: Heavenly Images.' I like picture number two best, because not only is she a good-looking woman, she is Iranian-American. The people of Iran will love it! I see it as one more example of Modernity seeping into a Primitive Culture. But is it already too late?

Can Science and Religion actually be allies? Let us hope. There was an interesting piece on TODAY today which is somewhat related: seems the new pope is holding some sort of debate concerning 'Intelligent Design.' Will The Vatican be able to escape from a literal view of the Very Old and Odius Testament account of 'Creation?' Will it be capable of adopting something resembling Wilson's view of 'The Creator?' We shall see.

As a Catholic back in the old days I had no trouble believing that God used Evolution as a natural mechanism to eventually produce human beings. The teaching was, at the time, that at a certain point God 'implanted' an 'immortal soul' which changed the Beast into the Man. Nobody I knew at the time (back in high school) had any problem with that.

And I was amazed to hear NBC's 'religion consultant' (George Weigel) say something like, 'Jews and Christians will never accept the idea that Man is the result of 'an utterly purposeless and completely accidental natural order.' Weigel is obviously biased. Does he think that Muslims will possibly accept that idea? Not bloody fucking likely. Weigel goes on to say that, 'And how will we treat each other if we think of each other as the product of a great cosmic chemical roll of the dice?' Sheeit. What an idiot.