Bullshit Fuzzy Logic

No doubt, some clowns deserve more praise and blame than others, nevertheless they shall remain nameless! And, "Truly Ignorant Wisdom" can be considered my own misguided interpretation of "A Rainbow Warrior Philosophy of Collective Ignorance!"

Bullshit Fuzzy Logic​

Saying nothing, yet leaving nothing unsaid, the bullshit fuzzy logic that can be spoken of is not the enduring bullshit, which is why the timeless wit and wisdom of Socrates are right at home in our Rainbow Warrior poetry. Archaeological evidence suggests that it was isolated tribes, living in the southern mountains of China, who first popularized the genre known as “Oneness Poetry”, by devising an ingenious system of knots in ropes and marks on turtle shells, allowing them to share more of their favorite jokes and riddles with nearby friends, relatives, and neighbors they seldom got to see as often as they’d like. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and the mountains these tribes lived in were so steep even the goats complained, and the only way they could possibly have been more isolated, was if they had lived at the north pole. But, that was long, long, ago in the time before time, at the very dawn of agriculture, almost six thousand years before Stone Hinge was erected. Long before graffiti ever became a serious problem, or even before the first recognizable outhouse or toilet, the Chinese were already developing the rudiments of written language, and you might think they were a pretty smart people, but you’d be surprised just how long it took them to figure out, that you don’t really need the turtle shells and rope, and any damned fool can just scratch a few marks in the dirt with a stick!

After that though, their Oneness Poetry took off like wildfire and, soon enough, people were scratching jokes and riddles in the dirt around every crapper in China. Over the next five thousand years, the industrious buggers refined their unique brand of tribal potty humor into a fine art and science, culminating first in the more family oriented potty humor oracle, known as the “I-Ching”, or “Book of Changes” and, many thousands of years later still, the crowning achievement of Oneness Poetry and potty humor, the “Tao Te Ching”, or “Way of Ignorant Virtue!” Which is often described as requiring half an hour to read, and a lifetime to comprehend, with many to this very day, still debating whether it is actually the deepest philosophical well on the planet, or the deepest pile of manure ever conceived by man. Of course, that makes the Tao Te Ching the perfect bathroom companion, but whatever your personal taste in reading material and literature, a version of that little book went on to become the most popular comic book sold in Asia! Some 350 million people worship the original text as sacred and the author, Lao Tzu (gray haired child), as a God, while billions more read it upon occasion but, I have to say, not being religious myself, I really have to admire a religion with a sense of humor about itself in this Mad, Mad, Mad, World!

Around the same time that the Tao Te Ching was first published in China, on the other side of the planet, Socrates of Athens had inherited his own tribal tradition, but his was an oral tradition, that never did translate well into a written one. Tribal traditions were as common as dirt back then, even in famous cities like Athens, but the wealthy establishment eventually got sick and tired of his less refined jokes, and executed him in a kangaroo court trial for making them all look like complete idiots in public, and for daring to teach peasants how to use jokes to avoid being exploited. Socrates became the first modern day martyr for standup comedians and politicians everywhere who, to this very day, still ritualistically beg their respective drunk patrons and constituents not to lynch them. Some might assume I’m exaggerating the importance of one drunk native, cracking jokes in bars for free drinks, but one of the first things Adolf Hitler did in office, was to make it illegal to crack jokes about the Nazi party and, of course, then he sent the lynch mobs around to all the bars to hang all the natives, and anyone else who might even think about cracking a joke he didn’t like!

Quite a few are surprised to learn that essential barroom jokes, comic books, democratic institutions, and a major world religion like Taoism, all evolved out of tribal potty humor jokes older than monuments and that, instead of Lao Tzu, millions of idiots like myself (who don’t necessarily hang out in bars) have been working on the sequel to the Tao Te Ching for the last 2,500 years, but its all true! They say that our bullshit fuzzy logic can take on a life of its own, and that the most interesting things grow out of manure, while our Rainbow Warrior poetry uses an impressive amount of fertilizer by anyone’s standards, to span both eastern and western traditions. Nobody could find Lao Tzu in any of the library bathrooms they checked, to see if he wanted to write the sequel, but there are a lot of stubborn idiots out there just like me, who can never get enough of this particular bullshit. However, if anybody does find Lao Tzu bumbling down some lonesome road less traveled, tell him we’d appreciate all the help we can get but, thankfully, its impossible to screw up Oneness Poetry!

Oh, you can play around with the words all you want, but what everybody looks for in our poetry is the mathematics, or symmetry, and billions of idiots worldwide usually recognize right away what works best and what doesn’t, because the mathematics just don’t lie. Which is also why anyone of any age can make significant contributions to the genre at any time, because mathematics, nursery rhymes, and cussing are all fun educational activities for the whole family, that can inspire anyone at any age. Kids often know what’s important to learn, and the poem, “Shit Happens” is my personal favorite, which is actually the very first potty mouth nursery rhyme ever taught to me by other children, who all agreed, that particular poem is somehow magical, and portended our futures. Being only five years old, I had no possible way of comprehending, just how much truly ugly lowbrow slapstick it would involve, enough to repeatedly turn your brain into Lime Jell-O or a multidimensional multifractal pretzel, that would make any yoga master turn around, and walk in the other direction.

Kids are magic, if you ask me, which is why publishers offer a three volume set of generic potty humor jokes for anyone with a death wish, or who just happens to be particularly masochistic. But, our Oneness Poetry is a different animal altogether, that does a lot more than just make you groan, go cross-eyed, pull your hair out, and climb the walls. Many of us consider our poems to be actual living creatures in their own rite, with a mind and a will of their own, and we merely feed, groom, and shower them with affection, the same way you would any other pet. One person I know compares her poems to a magical Cheshire Cat that grins and twitches its tail invitingly, but can mercilessly tease any damned fool who believes for one second that they can mess around with a Cheshire Cat! Some of us, just never got enough cartoons as kids, and Oneness Poems like ours are all natural born anarchists, that always insist on doing their own surprising thing, and can drive anybody up the wall, but a lot of us wouldn’t have it any other way!

Most say I shouldn’t tell outsiders the secret about our poems being magical and messing with your head, that I’m just giving away the joke, but I’ve seen too many sorry individuals, who never did get the punch line to that joke, while I have to live with my own conscience! Its one of those minor tribal disputes that crops up every now and then, whenever idiots allow their poems to roam all over the place, and don’t keeping an eye on them whenever they start getting into mischief. As enjoyable as I’ve always found our poems to be to play with, and frequently irritating, it never occurred to me to consider them anything more than just exotic potty humor “Poetry Pets” but, I discovered the hard way, that they are actually powerful avatars of Mother Nature! According to Lao Tzu, “The Tao that can be spoken of is not the eternal Tao” and, as pretentious as it might sound, contained within these pages is the proof, for what I eventually discovered was that our Oneness Poetry contains the seeds of the next scientific revolution, precisely because our poems are so ornery, they speak in the voice of our collective ignorance!

If reality is stranger than fiction, its only because, sometimes, there ain’t no damned difference! Oh, but please allow me to introduce myself, for I am the Wu Li master of space and time, a Warrior of the Rainbow, and the author of this, admittedly bizarre and flat out unbelievable tall tale about exotic prehistoric Poetry Pets running amok. In all my years, I’ve never heard a more outrageous story than my own, which is why I began writing it all down, because I still refuse to believe it myself! Either the reader can make more sense out of it all, or they can’t, but I have to try and make more sense out of it for myself somehow. All I know for sure is, even Hollywood writers could never make this shit up! Some of us are just born in the middle of a war zone, and grow up knowing the score, and to this very day, whenever people ask me, “What’s happening?” I tell them Armageddon Part V, and I’m dying for Part VI, just for something different for a change!

Unbeknownst to me at the time, my long strange twisted tale began at the tender age of three years old, upon my falling down a flight of basement stairs, and ending up in a coma for a week, only to awaken with no memory of what had occurred. Many years later, when the seizures began during puberty, I finally learned the devastating truth, and it would be four more years before they stopped. And, when they had finally subsided, I was still alive, but my brain damage was worse than ever and, adding insult to injury, I now had chronic PTSD and insomnia. Hell had become other people’s nightmares and sadistic fantasies, because I already knew, from personal experience, that nothing beats the reality of every neuron in your brain screaming out simultaneously, in mindless abject terror, as they are repeatedly electrocuted and bombarded from every side. Thirty seconds of that is enough to convince anyone, that they have just been through a lifetime in hell, and it is humanly impossible to ever be more terrified, literally out of their mind. The only reassuring thing about the experience, is that you know in advance you’ll either pass out or die but, one way or another, hell will come to an end in this life. My own mind had become a badly battered, dangling, high voltage live wire, shooting sparks everywhere, and connected to a head full of faulty shorted out electrical wiring and toasted circuit breakers, that were all threatening to burn down the entire house, while the rats were all nervously chewing away at the wiring!

Its one thing to joke about becoming your own worst enemy, and another thing altogether to almost never be able to forget that your own mind and body have a seriously dysfunctional relationship. The seizures would always occur ten minutes after I fell asleep, and to this day, almost any time I lay down, the sensation of falling asleep startles me back awake. Seizures would haunt me even in my nightmares, and I would bolt out of bed still convinced for several minutes that I was actually having a seizure, and so terrified out of my mind, that my eyes would roll up in my head and I could not speak. A good night’s sleep would become a rare event for many decades to come, as what had been a mere handicap, became overwhelming and crippling. Its the scars inside that heal the slowest of all and, at 14 years old, I became morbidly fascinated with Amnesty International, who got their start spending years and hundreds of thousands of dollars, rehabilitating political victims of torture, who were sometimes lucky if they managed to live out the rest of their lives quietly as hermits.

As a young man, working heavy labor jobs to exhaust myself, I still couldn’t sleep and constantly struggled just to remember what I was supposed to do next until, finally, I gave up, grabbed my guitar and hitchhiked out of town. My neurons were infants born in a war zone, fighting nonstop on the playground, and the kindergarten teacher was just way out of her depth, while the only drugs they had available at the time turned all the little kiddies into walking zombies, and would literally make people drool and shuffle their feet but, of course, only after constipating them first! Taoists tend to be touchy about constipation and, sometimes, they like to share all the latest recipes for coffee enemas and suppositories, and I figured, everybody’s got the right to draw the line somewhere. Call it really bad Vaudeville slapstick and Three Stooges comedy, but my neurons were the equivalent of traumatized infants walloping each other with the toy telephone, and the stores were all out of milk and talcum powder! The Pale Buddha said, “The past is only a memory, the future is only a dream” but, without memories and dreams, life as we know it would be impossible! In the immortal words of Yogi Berra, without memories at best, “Everything is deja vue all over again!”

Deja vue all over again was starting to look more attractive every day, and whenever people asked me if I needed any help, I would tell them I need a lobotomy and, ask if they happen to have an icepick handy. Even with a good night’s sleep, my brain was cross-wired and shorting out, with different parts working one minute, and completely failing the next. People tried to ignore my hands shaking all the time, but I was lucky if I could remember their name, or even my own telephone number and address. As a child, it was years before my mother noticed that I could not hear her new watch ticking, which is why I would stand next to the piano for hours on end as she played, because I could never really hear the music on the radio, and she was good. Years more passed, before I finally realized that I had no sense of smell like other people, much longer still, before I began to slowly accept that my mind was unlike anyone else’s, and I was cursed.

I had grown up that way and learned the hard way that I was different, could not do things other people did, and being different makes you a target in Babylon. My family moved every ten months on the average, and every new place we moved gangs and bullies would constantly stalk me on the way home from school. Not only was I always the new kid but, also, one of the smallest kids in any of my classes, and they never failed to notice that my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Eventually, I realized that attacking them one at a time on school grounds, in front of as many people as possible, even if I got beat up or suspended, was the only way to force the school staff or anyone else to do a fucking thing, and to let every bully know, one way or another, they were going down with me.

Kurt Vonnegut Jr wrote, “Slaughterhouse Five” about a man who becomes unstuck in time, with his memories also becoming unstuck in time, so that he might wake up and slowly start to remember who he is and what’s happening, and repeatedly become confused about what year it is and whether he is reliving a moment from his past, or actually in the present. That was a good day for me, which is why it was never one of my favorite books of his, because teenagers don’t read Vonnegut to feel good. What had been a childhood handicap that I was learning to compensate for, and was hoping would continue to improve, had become overwhelming and, like my hero Isaac Asimov, my library card became my best friend.

To this day, people shoving things under my nose is just a weird foreign custom that I’ve learned to tolerate, but my sense of smell has slowly returned over the decades and, once in a blue moon, the light bulb comes on and I can smell for maybe half an hour. The problem is, most of the time I have no clue what I’m smelling, and most of the time people give me all the burnt food, because it makes no real difference to me. If it doesn’t fit in the microwave, I don’t eat it, because I’ve almost burnt down the kitchen more times than, of course, I can remember, and unless the whole house filled up with smoke, I’d never know it was on fire. This same kind of intermittent behavior extends to my long term and working memories and, for example, I commonly forget where I’m going, or what bus I’m on for hours at a time, and I learned to enjoy wandering everywhere on foot, without a clue as to where I was going and, everywhere we moved, I would build small hidden platforms high up in the trees, just to have a peaceful place to be alone.

Back then, they had almost no idea how to treat either brain damage or PTSD, and I wandered the streets homeless as a young man, waiting to die. It was the early 1980s, and Ronald Reagan laughed about the explosion in the homeless population saying, “What homeless people?” Then he closed all the mental institutions nationwide, and I watched the cops driving the mentally ill from one city to another across the entire country, because nobody was prepared to deal with the explosion in the homeless population, which persists to this very day. It was a sad modern day mockery of the Cherokee “Trail of Tears”, and death was one of the few destinations that would welcome many of them for years. In some parts of the country there are ten empty buildings and warehouses for every one occupied, but they would all remain locked for years to come, and nobody would even set up tents for them in any vacant lot. The churches would require that long to band together, to re-trench, and re-organize their charitable efforts, spreading the homeless out across the country, because nobody wanted them, or anybody else, driving down the price of rent in the middle of a recession.

For years to come, the biggest problem for many of them, other than eating garbage and being driven like animals from place to place, was that so few even had shoes, that they would regularly steal them right off each other’s feet in their sleep. Minimum wage would remain at forty year lows, while legislators constantly debated doing away with it altogether, and shoes would remain expensive for the poorest of the poor for many years to come. In the mid 1990s when the news got out that children in Chicago were commonly walking to school through the snow in their bare feet, and sharing their shoes with their siblings, someone donated a warehouse full of sneakers to them. In the wealthiest country in the world, children were still commonly walking to school in their bare feet, as I watched violent psychotics use knives and two-by-fours they dug out the garbage, to fight over stale donuts they were giving away for free across the street. Many were being herded into overcrowded, out of the way vacant lots near abandoned railroads and factories, where they would throw up pieces of plastic and wood they dug out of the garbage for tents. So long as it didn’t look like they might start killing each often enough to draw unwanted attention, the cops never went there, and just patrolled the surrounding neighborhoods to keep them contained.

In real estate, its all about location, location, location and you can smoke crack cocaine on one side of some streets, but not on the other, because the cops just don’t get paid to defend that territory, and have to set their priorities. A recovering addict I once knew attended the funeral of a friend in a ghetto, and on her way out, the cops told her to never come back again, unless she moved there. She had grown up in a ghetto herself, was extremely proud of kicking her drug habit, of having left the ghetto to start a successful career, and being an inspiration for poor people and drug addicts everywhere, and was devastated by the loss of friend she could not help, who had overdosed, but this was one of the first of the newly walled-in ghettos, and they wanted to burn this one to the ground, with everyone still alive inside, salt the earth and pave it over, in the classic Roman tradition. One cop from the town was later indicted for possibly hundreds of false arrests, because they get promoted faster the more arrests they make, and he was just a little too ambitious, and not very bright. In Miami, the cocaine wars had become so overwhelming, that they lost half their police force overnight and, were replacing them so fast, they would soon come to realize that half of them had prior felony convictions, and were working both sides of the street.

And, when the World’s Fair came to the city of New Orleans, just as infamous for its police corruption, Reagan sent them a present of money and told them to reset their priorities and get the bums off the streets for the fair. They put up two concentric 40’ cyclone fences and two watch towers with guards with submachine guns, all on the enormous front lawn of the police station, and shoved the winos and insane into moth eaten WWII tents, that were riddled with holes so big you could shove a dinner plate through them, and put all the men in matching outfits so stiff with insecticides and fungicide that, even with all the holes, they could still stand up on their own. The same people Reagan had laughed about and kicked out of the mental institutions, he now shoved into pup tents that looked like they came out of a landfill, put them in cloths covered in more toxins and holes than cloth, fed them garbage, and guarded them all like prisoners of war until the World’s Fair was over.

Across the country, every state would eventually go on a prison building boom, to replace all the mental institutions, and many prisons would become classic medieval dungeons, the place where you throw all your unwanted garbage, including your crazy aunt Ethel. Of course, it cost the tax payers twice as much and, of course, the pharmaceutical companies insisted on getting a slice of that pie, with many homeless today wandering the streets, some preferring to eat out of garbage cans, and taking pharmaceutical drugs that cost hundreds of dollars per pill, just to avoid going to prison where they will force them down their throat anyway, all at taxpayer expense. A big advantage of using prisons, is that nobody can inspect them, not even for human rights violations, and the most psychotic among the homeless ended up in prison, some being tortured by the guards, just to see what its possible to do to a human mind. After decades in and out of prison, some of them would spend all day laughing and arguing with themselves in the nearest bathroom mirror, or on the nearest street corner, but neither killing them outright nor allowing them to wander in traffic and eat out of garbage cans, was good for business. Many years later, when I heard Reagan had acquired Alzheimer's disease, I tried to never think about the man again.

I was just waiting for my own turn to die, when a friend dragged me off to the Rainbow Family Gathering, and we even managed to hitch a ride half-way across the country with the “Love People”, who barely had enough gas money to get us all there, and who still have my undying gratitude to this day. When we finally got to the gathering I knew I had come home at last, with people literally shouting out, “Welcome Home” and “We Love You” and I realized that, sometimes, running in circles screaming and shouting at the top of your lungs, all the way down the damned highway if you have to, is how you can find some of the best damned things in life. That summer, they were my saviors, come to rescue a few of their own and take them off the hot city streets for a few weeks, and remind them that we are all members of humanity, and much beloved brothers and sisters. Screw Reagan, when 30,000 hippies descended on the national forest, the small town cops knew they were beaten, and allowed them to celebrate their high holidays and tend to their wounded in peace.

Long, long ago as a child, I had given up all hope of ever finding such people in this Mad, Mad, Mad World, and coming across them for the first time, I knew immediately, that at long last, I had found a miracle that even an agnostic wretch like me could believe in. Setting up camps early before the crowds came, we were the island of misfit toys, in the middle of the national forest, with many of us being flat out insane, drug addicts, brain damaged, and abused in ways I prefer to never dwell upon, some walking around barefoot and sleeping on the ground without blankets, yet they were all trying to support each other and raise each other up, and the hippies had been doing this for decades. These misfit toys were not waiting for Santa to come rescue them and find them all happy homes, because they could never afford Santa’s prices, and his reindeer tended to bite them!

Anybody can be a Rainbow Warrior, but those like myself are anarchistic tribal hippies, with many of our beliefs, customs, and ways being incomprehensible to most Babylonians, who have no real grasp of instant karma. Gatherings are as old as humanity itself, and part of our genetic inheritance, with tribes normally breaking up into small groups of eight or more, but they still need to gather regularly, in order to prevent inbreeding if nothing else. The more the Babylonians rejected their own people, the more often they would gather in national forests, because they had few other places to go where they could gather in peace, and we did what any other animal would do, we returned to our roots, and the ancient ways, seeking to recover our own lost humanity and heal our wounds.

We were literally scraping the bottom of the social pecking order, and I would estimate easily half the men they dragged off the streets that summer, to help set up camps, had significant brain damage and PTSD, and these were the more nonviolent cases, who often knew they were welcome at any gathering. Such things are epidemic among the poor especially and, along with all the alcoholics and drug addicts that I saw attempting to get away from their drug of choice, it raised my suspicion there was more going on behind the scenes at these gatherings, than just hippies running around the woods naked, smoking pot, dancing, and playing guitars and drums. Many consider gatherings sacred ground and, by tradition, violence, recorded music, and money transactions are forbidden. Gravitating towards the more tribal hippies, it would be many years before I finally put all the pieces of the puzzle together, in part, because there was an enormous amount of money to made by organizations, such as the NFL and the military, suppressing medical data on PTSD and head injuries for decades. We were brain damaged, and that was exactly why many of us were on the bottom of the social pecking order, why so many of us preferred marijuana to alcohol, and why so many Babylonians were determined to kill us all off slowly.

After forty years of trying everything they could think of, researchers were forced to conclude that the only reliable measure of anyone’s career potential, is the amount of working memory they possess and, similarly, forty years of other extensive studies concluded that the republican party is organized along the same lines as a flock of chickens. Not that I was anywhere close to putting all of the pieces to the puzzle together at the time, but for Babylonians to even congregate in the vast numbers that they do, they rely heavily on organizing along the same lines as a flock of chickens, which tends to lavish wealth, rank, and privilege upon those with the better memories, who also more reliably punish those with the worst memories. The tribal hippies and poor included a lot of brain damaged, and otherwise traumatized people, who had begun adopting ancient traditions in order to collectively defend themselves against the Babylonians and heal their wounds as best they could.

The whole “mysterious” sixties revolution could be explained, in part, as the bottom of the social pecking order reverting to a more primitive existence, in direct response to the rapid rise of the American Global Empire. Like Athens and Rome before her, the enormous wealth pouring into the US after WWII had all but completely shattered the strong leftist politics of the country at the time, and the result would be the eventual demise of not only a lot of unions but, also, the traditional family farm and small towns across the country, as the corporations and international conglomerates steadily moved in for the kill. The banks and corporations largely relied on classic hammer and anvil, divide and conquer, strategies because they had so many easy pickings, they were forced to prioritize whose lives to destroy next, with companies like Walmart becoming infamous for selling brand names like “Made in America”, that are actually made in China, and investing in multi-million dollar computer systems, databases, and full time lawyers, just to help them predict which small towns they could sucker into squeezing all the life out of next while, of course, advertising traditional American family values, on sale now at low as you can go low, low prices.

Blacks and others on the bottom of the social pecking order would spend half a century migrating all around the country, desperately seeking any way out of poverty, only for many of them to eventually retreat to their traditional insular ghettos and rural communities where, they became so isolated from the rest of Babylon, they began to create their own folklore and dialects, that few outsiders comprehend. After the second world war, the civil rights movement had erupted precisely because blacks had served their country yet again, with distinction, and were still being treated like slaves, with some being impressed into chain gangs as late as the 1950s, for the crime of being poor and black. They eventually won their civil rights, but only because nothing could be allowed to derail the rapidly rising empire, still struggling to dominate the Soviet Union. And, in the courts, their civil rights largely remained meaningless anyway, not only because they were black, as they were usually led to believe, but because the very idea of equality under the law is a joke in bad taste in modern Babylon, where money and the guns do all the talking, if you know what’s good for you.

Babylonians even blame their own poor for not getting ahead, yet they have the lowest social mobility rate in the developed world, and their answer was to import 10% of Mexico city alone, because the Spaniards and Mexicans perfected the art of being a peasant long ago. They’re frequently very hard working, polite, skilled, and very nice peasants in general who, incidentally, just so happen to also work for cheap in the most inhumane conditions. Farmers complained in unison for decades, that they couldn’t get anyone to pick their crops, but the NAACP was finally forced to go after the farmers themselves, for not providing migrant workers with humane working conditions, sometimes not even drinking water. The only thing a lot of Babylonians understand anymore, is when you have the money or the power to shame them in public and, in Georgia, when the people demanded farmers be prosecuted for hiring illegals, the state began using prisoners to pick crops, because nobody could remain competitive, paying real wages to do the job.

In West Virginia, when a wealthy man grew tired of receiving public slaps on the wrist and petty fines for dumping toxic waste on the side of the road, he just bought himself a judge, paying for his election. They say Americans love a winner and hate a loser but, sometimes, success doth breed contempt, and Babylonians have become so successful in recent decades, that they often prefer to even import their brides from other countries, and buy ten thousand dollar life-like robots because, sadly, they can’t even stand each other anymore. Not to mention, its just so much cheaper and easier and you can always get exactly what you want, by simply always relying on imports and all the latest affordable technology available whenever possible, and many Babylonians are extremely busy people, who don’t have a lot of time for shopping and nonsense, which is why even Walmart has become famous as a pick-up joint, while nobody goes to the malls anymore.

All roads lead to Rome, for the Grand Prize in the “Winner Takes All Global Economy Contest!” Which starts right here in the land of opportunity, where its still illegal to vote for Mickey Mouse in the state of Maryland, and everybody swears to defend the government they call evil to the death, while complaining nonstop that each new administration is somehow more incompetent, corrupt, and disturbingly insane than the last. Any day now, I expect Julius Caesar himself to march the army right across the Potomac river, to rousing thunderous applause from the mindless masses, desperate for anybody foolish enough to believe for one second, that they can save them from themselves or, who might even possibly, bring them more guns and money! Which is why I’m always careful to point out to Babylonians that I have never been the slightest bit interested in saving Babylonians from themselves, I have no guns or money, and it wasn’t me because I don’t even vote!

The same thing happened in ancient Rome, when the international conglomerates first formed and corrupted the entire country and, instead of quality products at reasonable prices, Rome became famous for spectacular entertainment, impressive marketing, franchising, more slaves than citizens, outrageously oppressive bureaucracy, lawyers and politicians with a line of crap a mile long who, of course, literally stabbed each other in the back and poisoned the very ground they walked upon! But, most famous of all, for exporting more high tech weapons and soldiers than any other country on the damned planet while, just coincidently of course, importing way more crap then anybody knew what to do with! And, upon occasion, keeping half their soldiers in reserve on the dole, just in case any of their neighbors, like say the Germans, gets any stupid ideas about making a quick smash and grab, looting the city. When people ask my political opinion, I tell them, “Its Empire baby, and this train ain’t stopping until she derails!”

Past a certain point, they say money takes on a life of its own, but within twenty years, money and guns will start to noticeably suck all the life out of this planet, until even the Babylonians start to look up from their reality TV shows, and notice something is amiss. That’s when commercial fishing will become impossible, because there simply won’t be enough wild fish left in any of the world’s oceans to make it worthwhile and, I figure, the Babylonians will definitely notice the price of fish going up! Already, a plague of jelly-fish is infesting beaches around the world and, within fifty years, every wild land animal much larger than a dog will become extinct, or only exist in zoos, ruining entire ecologies. An island of garbage the size of Texas circles the southern pacific, while Fukushima in the north still pours the most deadly radioactive waste imaginable into the ocean, with no end in sight, because even their best shielded robots are lucky if they last a few minutes inside the reactors. They built cheap nuclear reactors, based on submarine designs, on the most earthquake and tsunami prone island in the world, and were repeatedly cited for corruption and every safety violation imaginable, including stacking their spent rods right on top of the reactor. Thankfully, Tokyo was spared the worst, and when the reactors melted down, across the US, power reactors began nervously moving around their own spent rods, knowing the real threat from even a limited nuclear war or a meltdown, is all the unsecured radioactive waste still scattered across the country, making a single reactor capable of contaminating the entire east or west coast, if the wind just happens to be blowing in the right direction.

Cities in Asia are already suffering from dramatically increased death rates and health problems due to air pollution, to the point where many are now installing vending machines that dispense cans of breathable air, while the first thing everyone checks when looking for real estate in China, is how long the local water supply is projected to last, assuming it isn’t polluted. Ironically, the mindless masses have begun praying for a technological miracle to save them from their own guns and money and, in response to the obvious series of unfolding disasters threatening all of modern civilization, the bold new visionary high tech leaders of the “Winner Takes All Global Economy”, began to reassure the public, that in the grand capitalist tradition, they were already addressing the challenge head on. Ensuring the continuing survival of the human race, by doubling the number of billion dollar self-contained bomb shelters they were constructing for the elite, and accelerating their plans to begin colonizing Mars as soon as possible and, of course, offering their employees a chance to win a trip to Mars, or space in a bomb shelter.

A lot of hippies like myself, who knew of any alternatives, retreated from Babylon altogether deciding that, for all their enormous wealth, power, and knowledge, the Babylonians no longer had anything of any real value to offer themselves, much less, anyone else. Rainbow Gatherings are a place to meet and to discover what success others have had retreating from Babylon, and in creating new lifestyles for themselves. States have repeatedly attempted to stop gatherings, and to suppress alternative lifestyles, but they are anarchistic gatherings, and you may as well attempt to stop deer and rabbits from making babies, and discussing the best places to eat. But, that never stopped Babylonians from trying, because all they ever do, is look for more ways to make money and, if they could make more money chasing every deer and rabbit out of the forest, sterilizing or killing them all, many would do it without hesitation.

The Babylonians are so insane that some of their states have even sterilized tens of thousands of teenagers, for the crime of being born poor white trash, and have committed unspeakable experiments on black people, such as deliberately refusing to inform them they had gonorrhea, just to watch them die slowly in agony. The biggest shock about the rise of Nazi Germany, was that it was the most advanced and integrated country in the world, which suddenly devolved into unspeakable barbarism, the minute the chips where down and their economy collapsed. My great, great grandmother was a half-breed, rejected by both the whites and the Cherokee and, after loosing the Vietnam war, thousands of half-breed children were disowned by both governments. The Babylonians can think of themselves as enlightened and above barbarism all they want, but others always see what we ourselves cannot, and Babylon has the worst children’s human rights record in the developed world, not to mention, the worst social record period, with many insisting on pulling out of the UN, while the entire country has become a military state. Some say you can judge how civilized a culture is by how elaborately they bury their dead, like the Egyptian pyramids, but I say their own children are their judges, and that is one judgment none avoids, especially if your children die paying for your sins, or steadily disown everything you stand for.

For years, I was like an infant among the Rainbow Warriors, and even their smallest children usually knew a great deal more about tribal hippie customs, traditions, and lifestyles than I did, while the wisdom of the elders included the mysterious ways of instant karma, which require a lifetime to comprehend. Anarchists, like the Rainbow Warriors, don’t adopt a lot of customs and traditions that they don’t have much practical use for, but their ways can be so different from those of mainstream Babylon, it is difficult for many to comprehend their purpose. There are over a hundred quotes attributed to Einstein, which are all variations on the theme that “God does not play dice”, and Neils Bohr once famously shouted back at him, “Stop telling God what to do!” But, the Rainbow Warriors never emerged from any ivory tower, for their’s is the original school of hard knocks where, from hard fought experience, many had learned to value the wisdom of their collective ignorance, contained within their truly ancient 12,000 year old potty humor tradition. They eschewed abstract debates over how many angels can dance on the head of a pin! Knowing that their Oneness Poetry is an oracle and avatar of Mother Nature herself, which has survived down through the untold ages, laughing in the face of repeated attempts to banish potty humor from the land! And, even surviving the long since forgotten fall of mighty empires, and the repeated collapses of the Tower of Babel!

Once seen, some things can never be unseen, once heard, some things can never be unheard, and nobody knows that better than crazy brain damaged hippie dippies, with wild ass stories, exotic adult potty humor, and really weird, weird, weird ideas about instant karma! So, write it all off as just another Hollywood disaster “B” movie plot, more vicious commie propaganda, or just another tall tale told by a crazy hippie around a campfire but, already, they say the first of 18 estimated mass migrations has taken place, from Africa into Europe, as droughts spread around the planet. Canada has agreed to supply the US with water, while a nervous Mexican government looks for reassurances, that their own water supply won’t be cut off. The north pole no longer exists in the summer, providing a great shortcut for shipping lanes, with new lanes opening up around the world and, many, eagerly anticipating the day when Russia, Greenland, and Canada finish thawing. Within twenty years, northern China will become the first in a series of “Great Dust Bowls” springing up around the globe, while the state of California has declared they no longer have any real wildfire season, because the fires never stop burning. Yet the Babylonians just keep laughing and asking, “Where have all the hippies gone?” When, in their madness, they have created their own hell on earth, in the image of their own worst nightmares.

Nonetheless, in a hopeful sign, a white buffalo is born in the west, signaling we may yet have time but, the black rhino is extinct and, around the world, tribes now see the unmistakable signs of what is to come, and begin to prepare, while I too have retreated into my own tiny crack in Babylon, living as a hermit in quiet contemplation of physics, philosophy, and my beloved Oneness Poetry. For over two decades I had been soaking up data online like a sponge and, now diving into the task in earnest, what I could not find I searched for using bait. If necessary, I would teach confused Babylonians some minor aspect of what I knew, in order to explore their often wild misconceptions on the subject. The Babylonians love to argue so much, I could easily encourage them to criticize even the most ridiculous things, such as whether Bambi should have died at the end of the film. But, by doing so, I could learn more about what’s missing from this picture by examining all the myriad misconceptions they had, and what arguments they tended to avoid.

I was attempting to solve an enormous jig-saw puzzle, with only the vaguest idea of what the Big Picture might actually look like, and the endless misconceptions of the Babylonians turned out to be one of my more reliable resources. In no small part, because there were just so damned many of them, that I could easily find ones who had well structured arguments, no matter how erroneous the argument, or how little worthwhile content it might actually possess. All that I required, was that they be well structured, so that I might make meaningful inferences and place them in larger contexts, in order to get a better idea of what’s missing from this picture. That way, I could also get around my own biases as well, using their different misconceptions to examine my own assumptions.

Western logic assumes everything is causal, and encourages people to focus on solving one or a few problems at a time, in a very systematic fashion, but people frequently get stuck pounding away at the same stupid nail, like a bird pecking away at its own reflection in a mirror, when any damned fool can be potty trained! And, any damned fool can assemble a jig-saw puzzle, with no formal training required! When your logic is no longer getting you anywhere, and you finally get tired of pounding away on that same stubborn nail, that’s a good sign that you simply don’t have anywhere near enough pieces of the puzzle and, quite possibly, you have unwittingly shoved your nose in way too deep, into some particularly laothsome crack. It is in just such dire moments of desperation as these, when we find ourselves bereft anywhere near enough information, to even pretend to be able to make an informed decision, that it can really pay off big time, to just run in circles screaming and shouting!

This is the analog systems logic of every toddler, popularly referred to as, “Bullshit Logic” and “Cartoon Logic”, which assumes that nature is largely self-correcting or, obviously, humanity would already be an extinct species. To some extent, mother nature can be considered everybody’s mom, who ensures that Bugs Bunny can never die, by stopping you from running out in front of traffic, and insisting on teaching you how to always stop and look both ways. For example, when my sixteen month old daughter refused to believe everyone in the living room, when they warned her not to touch the hot wood stove, without a word, we all agreed that this was one lesson that mother nature could teach far better than any of us. Thus, mother natures makes a variety of shortcuts possible, both through the living room and the throughout the neighborhood, much more feasible than classic logic suggests is possible, with another great example being a toddler dashing back and forth to the potty whenever an adult enters the room.

Running back and forth to the potty all the time might not appear to be a shortcut, but the shortcut they are taking is towards acquiring all the pieces to the puzzle of life, and not just what they require to master potty training. Instant karma is synonymous with pattern matching, systems logic, and emergent effects, which means the only thing the toddler has to do in order for them to keep on learning and gaining profound new insights, into what life is all about, is to simply keep on gathering and assembling more pieces of any puzzle. Toddlers are actually quite good at determining what they have any real hope of assembling, as if life were one giant series of interconnected jig-saw puzzles, which they can never really hope to fully assemble, and they themselves are part of the same puzzle.

Doing it more creatively and playfully is actually the more efficient method for them, if not for adults, because they are literally immersed in a sea of data, or infinite puzzle pieces, and need to focus more on simply gathering as many pieces as they can and shuffling them around for any meaningful humble and elegant simplicity. The problem is, the same behavior can become counterproductive in adults, sometimes pointlessly running in circles searching for love in all the wrong places, which is where classical logic and the conscious mind can make a huge difference, but only if the individual’s mind is open enough for them to become aware of their situation. The more traumatized a child, the more introverted and the harder it becomes for them to learn anything, or even find the motivation to play, and by more creatively running in circles, rather than getting stuck pounding away at the same nail, a child has more opportunities to see what they’re good at and develop any innate talents they might have.

Their more spontaneous approach helps to prevent them from getting side-tracked from collecting a wide variety of different pieces. For example, you can teach a five year old calculus, but they have no use for it and will just forget it, because they need to collect more random pieces to the puzzle of life, for a broader perspective, preparing for the day they can put them to use. One African tribe doesn’t even allow people to marry until they are thirty years old, considering them too immature, with studies indicating the adult personality usually becomes more or less fixed in our mid to late twenties or a few years later. The broader and more diverse the puzzle pieces they collect before that, the greater the whole they can hope to create as an adult when they finally finish assembling most of the pieces to create the adult they wish to become. The crucial point is that, by merely continuing to collect and assemble pieces, they gain new and greater insights, while the more traumatized they are the less they learn but, in both cases, their play can be compared to an office worker, merely gathering and collating data, and working on their skills, but all that work can provide unique insights and resilience that they can’t acquire any other way, and that can sometimes prove invaluable to them as adults, when they go from being a comparatively lowly office drone, to becoming the president of the company.

Adults complain, but whether an infant resists potty training is unimportant for their future, because even learning how to wipe their own little butt is inevitable, and merely by running back and forth they collect all the pieces they require to, eventually, solve that particular puzzle. Toddlers rely on the classic analog salt-of-the-earth logic of kick it if it doesn’t work, don’t fix it if it ain’t broke, and when in trouble, when in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout! People are social creatures and, although a little charm always helps, stupid as it sounds this strategy most assuredly does work and, all that anyone ever need do for confirmation, is to ask the next toddler they come across for their opinion. However, be forewarned, some of the more ornery ones may kick you and start running in circles screaming and shouting, and many of their parents wisely encourage them to behave this way, whenever approached by a stranger.

Adult Babylonians, running in circles, screaming and shouting online, quite often with the equivalent of crap in their pants, and attempting to use their words to kick each other where it hurts the most, were a great resource for me to leverage for the same reason. Only on rare occasions was I ever actually interested in whatever they might have to say about the pros and cons of potty training, the deeper philosophical issues, psychological impact, political ramifications, or any of the high tech solutions being developed by the military, such as a diaper that incinerates its own contents with lasers. Rather, what I was attempting to determine for myself was, exactly what all these crazy Babylonians were avoiding. Toddlers constantly running back and forth to the potty, whenever an adult enters the room, are either running towards or away from something, whether they happen to be excited about discovering the deeper mysteries of potty training, or running to avoid getting caught wallowing in their own crap, there has to be some reason they keep running because, once they figure out how the potty works, even toddlers will stop running after a couple of days!

The comedian Stephen Wright summed up my life for me when he joked, “I kept a diary, right after I was born: ‘Day one, still tired from the move. Day two, everybody talks to me like I’m an idiot!’” Normally, I’m not really the sharpest pencil in the box or the quickest to catch on but, ever since I was three years old, I’ve just naturally assumed that all Babylonians are nuts, and often have no clue what the hell they’re talking about! That’s why I’ve been agnostic since I was three years old, and a few years later I decided that, assuming there is a God, I would have to make it a point to tell him I’m not amused at what he does for entertainment! Throwing me into the deep end of the pool, with all these crazy Babylonians, and making me have to figure out all the this crap for myself, from day one! So, when I was 14, I first began doing this kind of research in earnest, by skimming through technical journals in libraries for hours on end, on the assumption that, even if I was lucky if I could only comprehend half of what they said, what remained obvious was that even the academic institutions were avoiding specific things. However, at least, their enormous wealth of well structured and comprehensive arguments, provided better clues as to exactly what the hell they’re all running away from...

 

This is the first half of the first chapter of my book. It took seven years of shuffling all the metaphors to figure out what had to go in this chapter and how to write it, and the final result will have to wait until I write the rest of the book. To me, its all math and assembling puzzles. I've had women beg me to write more sexy poems, and I've had to inform them that its all math to me, that just happens to express emotions and, sometimes, I have worked on the logic of a poem for decades before having any clue as to what its supposed to be about. I write what I write so that I can find out what it means for myself.

 

What Planck discovered over a hundred years ago is that all of modern civilization, technology, and even our religions and ethics, are all ultimately based on tautological bullshit, and no different from quantum mechanics in that regard, as merely extraordinarily useful bullshit. In other words, as far as modern science can determine, they are full of crap and 42 really is as good an explanation as any other, and treating words like gibberish or mathematical variables can, sometimes, be more useful. Its an enormous pie-in-the-face that modern civilization is about to receive, but a welcome breath of fresh air, if you ask me.

Information is indistinguishable from physics in quantum mechanics, because the two are interchangeable. Finnish researchers constructed a very plain, humble, copper transistor and microscopic box that could sort electrons according to their charges without expending any energy in the process. As if they had waved a magic wand over their setup, and empowered their transistor to convince unruly electrons to work out their own differences for a change, and make themselves more useful.

 

I enjoyed a paragraph in the middle of the piece.

I'll come back to it when I have more time.

 

I owe the Rainbow Family a debt I am happy to say I can never repay, and writing this book is merely a good start. They were the first to show me the endless possibilities for what it can mean to be human.