October 24, 2017--Seven years ago this month, I had returned to work, as a psychiatrist for one of the state's public psychiatric hospitals. This to get my house out of foreclosure, after I retired medical licenses and stopped paying medical school debt.
I had also obtained 13 chicks that, unbeknownst to me, had been genetically manipulated for short, meaty lives, to be sacrificed to McDonald's McChicken sandwiches at six weeks. Why did these 13 escape the fate of their 25,000 bretheren? and become my pampered pets? My guys lived and died in their own ways, in their own times. My job was to pay attention.
The seven-year cycle is important in cosmic time, otherwise known as astrology. The planet Saturn orbits the sun every 29 years, plus or minus a few months. Seven years represents a quarter of the Saturn cycle and has to do with the recurrent nature of events and issues. Supposedly, the body renews itself every seven years. The "Saturn returns" in an individual's life occur around ages 29 and 58, and are marked by significant changes.
LANGUAGE: WANT, WONT, AND WON’T
Friday, October 1, 2010—I was a linguist in a previous life. There is, somewhere in my past, a gift for foreign languages, although I’ve felt blocked there in this life. I speak English like a foreigner, Romey said. Yes, and it’s backwards, too, but I absorbed that from the environment. Speaking backwards, in negatives, is foreign to me.
I strive to reverse the polarity and to dispense altogether with the idea of poles. The polarity of consciousness is illusion, unless you speak of the moment’s polarity, as is my want. Or wont. Note the contradiction of “wont” and “won’t,” when “want” indicates desire.
This is cultural, but it is not mine to carry. Want is, for me, consistent with wont or desire, open, direct, and free.
This is the moment’s decision, as language, a time-based phenomenon, chooses each moment what word to string in sequence. Want becomes wont which becomes won’t which obstructs progress, sets up resistance to the desire.
Is desire to be so feared? Alas, this is the curse of original sin preachers, the fire and brimstone of self-inflicted hell.
Nor is this mine to carry.
PROHIBITION: DRUG LAWS AND FREE MARKET CAPITALISM
Friday, October 1, 2010—I sprang for my own copies of two magazines at B&N the other day, and relished a long neglected dive into deeper reporting than newspapers offer. Also, the smorgasbord of current events taught me.
Empire, a new movie based on a history of “Nucky” Atlantic City treasurer in 1920. Prohibition was about to begin on Wally’s birthday, January 16, 1920. Interesting coincidence, is it not, DD? Kate must have been aware of that. Maybe that’s why Wally was a teetotaler.
The movie features Nucky, about to make a fortune on Prohibition because he keeps Atlantic City wet.
Yup. My point exactly. Drug and alcohol laws have controlled taxpayers since this country began. They are guaranteed to funnel money into the hands of the few, at great cost to many, because drugs, alcohol and tobacco are consumable commodities that are easy to produce—the natural drugs, anyway—relatively inexpensive, and have guaranteed markets. The ultimate free market capitalist commodities, in other words.
No wonder government wants to control them. However, government cannot claim to deserve the taxes it imposes on free market commodities.
Government and capitalism are opposites. Sneaky socialists have claimed capitalism in others’ names, bringing shame to the genuine free market capitalist, otherwise known as the individual.
The genuine capitalist spurns government help and regulation and feels free to fire any government employee who costs more than he is worth.
There, I just gave myself a tax cut. Let’s see where else I can cut taxes.
That includes the president.
HARPER’S ON CUBA
Saturday, October 2, 2010—I finished an interesting Cuba travelogue in Harper’s. The author tried to live on an average Cuban’s salary, about $20/month. It became all about finding enough food to get by. He even cheated a little, because his room was paid for. The government owns everything so the real economy is the black market, underground one. My guess is Castro’s government knows very well that everyone is a thief, but it looks the other way as people develop survival skills technology.
Raul recently, within the last couple of weeks, announced 90% of people work for the government, and 500,000 of them will have to find jobs in the private sector by next year. The government will issue business licenses for hundreds of entrepreneurial operations, from barbers to cake decorating, or some such. Previously, the government controlled all professions except some things like restaurants, I believe.
This article wasn’t about that. It was more about how the author learned to work the underground economy, by buying food rations from the back doors of the state-controlled ration stores. As a tourist, he wasn’t eligible for rationed food at any price, but the storekeepers then sold out the back door for a profit.
While everyone is a thief, the author didn’t say much about violence. The thievery sounds innocent enough, in what people are quick to help each other out with a meal or--in the author’s case—a length of hose when he wanted to make moonshine.
Castro’s Cuba sounds like a gentle culture, for all its thievery. Perhaps Castro understands the commodity money idea better than anyone. By design or accident, Cubans seem to be learning how to survive without government, and in spite of government.
All Raul is saying is that Castro has kept them from starving by promising an ideal, but they cooperated to make it work 50 years. Only a truly benevolent dictator can last that long, especially when the entire island goes hungry and risks famine. That Castro survived that test gives me utmost respect for him.
Saturday, October 2, 2010—I’m reading in Personal Reality about seeding he past with memories imagined. What an inspiring idea, as previous lives then don’t seem so grim. I practiced lots of yoga in the dungeon life, and meditation, too. In my Russian foot soldier life, with a wounded foot left to freeze by Stalin’s army, I was rescued by a peasant girl who took me home, where she lived with her alcoholic father, and nursed me back to health. I became quite useful managing her father’s tirades, and doing leather and wood work. I brought money in, and the girl adored me. So what if her father was a drunk who took pride in embarrassing me.
I figure lame men can’t run away, so there’s survival advantage if the rest of him works alright.
Chiron, the wounded healer.
In my burned at the stake witch life, I cackled my way to the haunting dimension and spooked all my undead enemies every chance I got.
“You still glad you burned me, Assholes? You can’t reach me anymore, but I can reach you. How’s about spilling some red wine on your holy heart? The church bells sounding in the witching hour for no good reason? The church suddenly being struck by lightening?
“I like it up here. Please, please, don’t make me get born again. I’m having too much fun.”
But alas, all hell raising parties must end sometime, so I must return to repair the damage I have wrought in my wrath.
SETH AND CHICKEN GENE MANIPULATION
Monday, October 4, 2010—Seth says physical and emotional disability are identical, at least that’s how I read it, because it is what I believe. In my birdies’ care, the disability began before they were conceived, by distorted human emotion. They are the result of gene manipulation, the modification of the physical form to suit exploitive purposes.
I’m playing these consequences out, because this brought the Roscoe/pecking order mindset, the testosterone poisoning so typical of today’s man and his alter ego rooster.