Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Benevolent Conspiracy: Santa Claus/Leo Strauss

The Way Out is trial by fire/ we must march into and through our deepest fears if we are to be free.

If we are to face our fears we must first identify them.

here's an exercise in levity and non-sense that actually works.

1. stand in front of a mirror.

2. ask yourself, "What am I afraid of?"

3. get real about this, don't be a coward. what scares you most? Death? Loneliness? Pain? Poverty? Cancer? Queers? Jeezerz? Islamofascists? Jooz? the Guvmint? Global Warming? Global War-Mongering? Mushroom Clouds? Muishroom munching commie hippies? Gun totin' drunken mulletted rednecks?Rush Limbaugh? The number thirteen? Barack Obama? Me??????


Everyone's afraid of one thing or another.

4. Think about the most horrific specifics associated with your fears. Make an equally horrific face in the mirror., one of abject terror, a Munsch-kin scream face ugly so ugly o the horror the horror and keep doing it scarier and scarier until...

(wait for it...

wait for it...)

5. You suddenly look so funny that you can only laugh at your face, yourself, and your silly fear.

Okay, my dear sisbrahthren, now that we have that opening stretch out of the way, let's get down to business.

I'm just joshing. I'm out of business, so let's get down to pleasure.

recurring themes round here include

conspiracy/connecting the dots

myth v "reality" and/or myth as reality

similarity across boundary and/or mixed metaphor

there's others, too, that take turns surfacing and submerging but we'll try to stay primarily with the short list.

let's start at the top . what is a conspiracy?

in simplest terms: A conspiracy is a secret plan.

Usually we associate conspiracies with "evil" or malicious intentions. Is that always the case? I say, "Not Necessarily."

Allow me to suggest that most "conspirators" believe that their aim is true, and that their ends ultimately justify their secretive means.

<< Enter Santa Claus, aka Kris Kringle, Father Christmas, St. Nicholas, star witness for the defense...

Attorney for the Defense of Benevolent Conspiracy: Mister Claus - Are you real?

Santa Claus: Well, that's kind of a tricky question...

AfD: Very well then, we'll skip that one for now, as I'm quite sure the jury, being mature adults, know the difference between reality and a fairy tale. Instead, let me ask you this, Mr. Claus: Why does the myth of your existence persist despite the ever-mounting physical evidence to the contrary?

SC: Ho, HO, HO!!!!!!

AfD: I beg your pardon?

SC: Ho, ho ho. Joy to the world and all that good stuff. He sees you when you're slleping/He knows when you're awake/he knows if you've been bad or good/so BE GOOD FOR GOODNESS' SAKE!!! MERRRRRRRRY CHRISTMAS!!! My myth brings joy and merriment andprosperity and the spirit of giving; spreading love and light across the world during Winter's coldest darkest days.

AfD: so, in other words, it serves the greater good to perpetuate the myth, is that correct?

SC: In my opinion, you are correct sir.

AfD: But what of the deliberate deception of the innocent? The lies? The subtle use of fear to modify the behavior of the True Believers.

SC: Eh.... who's complaaaaaining? Nobody really gets hurt, and even if a few do, everyone else makes out like a bandit! All those presents...

AfD: So you would in fact argue, Mr. Claus, that in the case of your benevolent conspiracy and the fairy tale it perpetuates, the end justifies the means because, in the end, the good far outweighs the bad?

SC: That is my firm belief, counselor.

AfD: Thank you, Mr. Clawz. no further questions. >>

This is but one bite of a mock turtle soup trial in a kangaroo court of the imagination.

Let's explore a little more.

Once again: a conspiracy is a secret plan.

As we see from the above example, not all conspirators conspire solely for ill gain. Sometimes the means are deceptive, but the intentions are certainly noble. Deception is a necessary evil when it comes to maintaining belief in a myth. Sometimes there's a supplemental agenda attached. In the Santa Claus conspiracy, "He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness' sake has been encoded within the tale as a tool for benevolent behavior modification/control.

The idea of benevolent conspiracy is not new. Google "Plato noble lie".

Then check out Leo Strauss.

Leo adapted Plato's "noble lie" philosophy to modern geopolitical thought. Strauss believed that those in power - a tiny minority of intellectually superior elites - have not only the right but the responsibility to use "noble lies" to deceive the masses (and, at times, their "elected" figurehead leaders)thereby controlling their behavior and maintaining "order" for the "greater good" ie maintaining the existing order/power structure/global control/distribution of wealth/resources by an elite, intellectually superior oligarchy.

That was Leo Strauss' fairy tale. A benevolent conspiracy to rule the world.

I'm glad we're all adults, and can separate myth from reality.

Imagine if there really were people who believed that Straussian crap, and actually actually occupied positions of power and authority in the world... they could manipulate the truth in the press, use fear of shadowy enemies or imminent catastrophes to control our behavior, seize our wealth and limit our freedom. Hell, they could create a bogus, elaborate sleight of hand monetary policy to divert all the assets from an entire nation into the hands of a tiny minority, leaving nothing but a pile of iou's on the treasury floor.

They could wage perpetual war if they wished.

Just kidding.

We can rest assured that if such a (benevolent)conspiracy were to actually exist, the end would eventually justify the means, the noble intent of those in power would ultimately bring joy and merriment and prosperity to the world at large, serving the greater good, right?




Let's boogie, my sisbrahthren. dance your cares away with me:

Monday, February 16, 2009

Yo-Dawg-ism and the Art of Mindful Self-Mastery

"I'm a mutt."

-President Barack Obama

Me too, mister President. Euro-mongrel. Heinz 57, born in '57. I'm a mixed breed; a byproduct of Divine Accidental Sloppy Conception.

With the lack of any dominant culture/tradition/religion/mythos to form the foundation for my beliefs (especially after the Santa revelation) my reality tunnel/outergarment has been constructed with philosophy that is both piecemeal and "make-believe." I borrow from all sources, and weave my blanket of belief with threads and strands of diverse material and from disparate origins.

Is that a real poncho or a Sears poncho?

It's a Technicolor Clusterfuckian Dream(es)Cape of a Fairy Tale, from over there it may appear that I've dressed myself in tatters, and as the warp, weave and materials are subject to universal, constant change, the perception is superficially valid, though from here I can assure you that on the inside it's warm cozy, comfy and secure. Whatever the weather, I'll take it over gortex or kenmore kardboard. Sirius Lee.

The cloth is simultaneously being unraveled and rewoven. The kinetic cenergy produced by this activity makes up for any loss of heat caused by the temporary holes that appear in the magic blanket.

A fairy tale that is mobile, fluid, and ultimatelu disposable. Imagine a hermit crab on an endless, beach dotted with an infinite array of empty shells. Further imagine that our hermit crab is imbued with a human ego, and a full length mirror before which to pose, andyou get the picture, and if the picture's seen in the context of a time lapse series, one gets a feel for the overall evolution of the process.

but our dyslexix mixtmutt metaphor on this nrom yadnom is one of dawgs, not dungeness, though dogs do dung 2, my pretty puppy, don't fool yerself you got an asshole too and its a winkin atchew the turd eye atop the pyramid of cozmic krap, you gotta bend over to see what i mean, trouble ahead, trouble behind... there's plenty o dung-ness in these exremental elocutions.

He shits me.

He shits me not...

I'm just joshin' y'all.

Today's Truth is Tomorrow's cosmic Schmuckism.
Let's B Sirius for another moment.

Whose dawg R U ?

Who is YOUR Pavlov? Who is the master that creates the greenness in the grassssszzzzz, snoop doggie?

Sometimes we hear of ideas and embrace them intellectually because they "sound"/"resonate" as being right and/or true long before we have experiential, first-hand evidence of said idea or concept.

Other times the experience comes first and the intellectual explanation much later.

Pavlov wrote the canine training manual re: conditioning. Drool... WOOF!

whose dawg R U?

I was introduced to the idea of serial re-imprinting/ redirection/ reconditioning of one's own neural circuitry at the age of 16, through the writings of a Mad Irishman the Good Doctor Leary.

It is only recently, however, that I have been engaged in the willful and mindful exercise of re-wiring and re-routing of my neural pathways for greater efficiency/understanding. Necessity is the mother of invention. i have been immersed in a tsunami of information as the result of our technological invocation of instantaneous and infinite global connectivity/communication, and hence a newer, more flexible and complex model is required for storage and categorization of the newer, larger payload.

When you're trying to make more room in a finite space, it requires re-arranging and sometimes some stuff just has to be discarded.

Buddha taught detachment. Bill Wilson, the Patron saint of Drunks wrote, in the chapter of the basic AA text entitled, "How it works, that "some of us tried to hold on to our old ideas, and the result was nil until we let go absolutely."

Lately i have become somewhat detached from the arbitrary mishmash of conventional cultural calendrical cycles imposed upon us by Gregor and co.

Like most other occurences in my life, this began accidentally rather than willfully, and only as the results have begun to avail themselves has my participation in the dance become a more conscious activity.

For the last six plus years I have not been subject to any consistent, repetitive work/play/sleep schedule. No defined boundaries. A few occasional points in time that need to be recognized for practical interactive purposes, but otherwise, a dissolution of the artificial boundaries in the calendar construct.

The results have been strange and wonderful.

I've become more aware/sensitive of the polyrhythmic nature of our universe, our lives, our habits, et c.

i have a sense of becoming gradually unstuck in any single "time"/rhythm/pattern, and instead find myself "moving" to/thru many at once.

As a result, I find myself living more in the fluid "now" without trying to "force the feeling."
Tthe mayans had their own fascinating, multi-calendrical mythical/methodological manner for conceptualizing and marking time, and lately i've included strands of their ideas in the multi-textural dreamweave of my own mutant myth, thereby adding an odd-metered half-step to my t-town toddle-dee-doo.

the dervish is dizzying, i tellya.

embrace your inner pavlov. de-program obsolete convention.

mindfully re-imprint your Self with the Power to Love.

engage novelty. activate mutation/evolution and embrace alternative universal ideological idiocsynchronicities.

Ascend the tower of babble, howl from the heavens and fill the skies with the sounds of your very own barking, drooling glossolalia.

May your bark be in harmony with your bite when your dogma is crushed under the tires of your Brand New Karma!

and, as always, my dawgzz and dawgstresses,

May Peas Bewitch You.

Whirled peas in a dervishly delicious stew of mixed metaphor.

i smell the ozone of electricity in the cosmosphere, a coalescence of nebulousness, a reconciliation/realignment of rhythm, a re-awakening to the One original, universal tune sung in the Language of Love

One Love.

Love is Real. Not Fade Away.


Nothing is Real.

This is my fairy Tale Happy Ending Included in Original Price.

Come out and play make-believe with me or play with yourself and/or others.

Just please remember, when you sit down with your calendar to write your future schedule, always be sure to make/take

Time Out For Fun.


Saturday, February 14, 2009

It's Valentine's Day!

Cupid's got his sights on YOU

May his aim be straight and true

Happy Valentine's Day to one and all.

Rage Love, my dear sisbrahthren.

Rage Love Hard.

May peas bewitch you.

Friday, February 13, 2009


Revelation. Two letters away from a revolution.

round and round we go

where we stop who know?


lay lee lie low loo lumph.


enough nonsense man



on the one?

which one? the only one?

"there is only one God
He is the Sun God.
RA. RA. RA!"

or is it

"There is only One God
He is the Fun God

tales fersale

ADD = F(F)F or possibly f to the nth

fluid (fluctuating) focus

it's not a disorder, dodo-head, its evolutuin/multitasking - back in a sec- as i was saying... the disorder, hoever can be found in the cognitive dissonance of the cacophonous chords composing the mantra of authority's plunger-muted trumpet-teacher droning wah wah wah wah wah wah wah echoing, fading, in, out, and in agin, in incessant, annoying iteration until at last the free mind either explodes or succumbs to head-bobbing, slack-jawed, drooling institutional submission.

just kidding.

science bless our public schools for all godz amerrrrkin chillunz gits a free ejukayshun.

can't discuss the state OF our public schools without discussing the State AND our public schools but that's a toasted posting for another time and space.

Howd'ya like my new sig for a new era?

©µЯЯεήŦl¥ §èå®çĦîήğ føЯ å ήεώ vøçåßµlãr¥
tø d맩ríþê ªll thë Ħ¥¶ë®dîmêή§îºήåL mºdålïtïê§
ðf dïvïñë åLµm1ñã+îøñ!

and that, my dear sisbrahthren, is the metaphor of todays attention and mutation.

I speak in metaphor and engage in levity/hil-air-ity/ligh-ness of BEING because metaphor alone can begin to describe that part of last night's dream that lies beyond the reach of today's waking consciousness. Besides... fun beats fear in a two-handed rockpaperscissorsredux every time.





and/or and/or and/and


divine Uncertainty.

contradictory dichotomy.

there is only one fnord
he is the unfnord

Nonsense I tell you.

nothing is permanent.

all is mobile.

all is disposable/recyclable.

fairy tales, myth, metaphor, language, culture, understanding are ALL included.

Let me take you


cuz i'm going to

Strawberry Fields


move on.

a fresh wind

from a new direction


against the empire

i'm a kite

without a string

temporarily defying gravity

carving spirals cross the sky

daredevil loops


sure to be

Death by Tree.

or bad poetry.


mort to cum?

or merely


space is nothing.

gravity is everything.

come together

all of us

in one

infintesssssssssimally tiny

unimaaaaaaaaginably dense

black hole.

one love

one destination

here we are

all of us

nothing between us

but the imaginary void of space

and the unadulterated, undiluted, full-strength dose of gravity's inescapable attraction.

The universe is a conspiracy; a web of infinite complexity and intricate connectivity. We're all in on it.

There's no escape.

the history of man is history.

our mark upon the world is our story, and vice versa.

The story of man is the story of the story.

symbols and language, evoked to encode, preserve and transmit ideas, thereby giving them mobility and durability through time and space.

crude symbols evolve and combine to create ever more complex maps and models to reference and pass along.

The evolution of the maps and models and the truth that they carry manifest themselves in our technological artifacts.

Information technology>real-time. global interconnectivity/communicability

The intrawebbz is but an unfinished map.

A crude architectural prototype of a larger landscape.

Gaian consciousness is the territory.

Strawberry fields.


The fresh wind disperses the clouds of illusion, and with them are swept away the artificial boundaries of our mental constructs.

Awaken to the Dream.

Join the Party.

Dance til you drop and let gravity take care of the rest.

May Peas Bewitch You, my sisbrahthren.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

We all choose our own metaphors, myths and fairy tale versions of the universe. Today I choose to connect the dots from within the meatsphoric construct that casts us in the role of interior designers of the individual reality tunnels in which we reside. We choose the colors, styles and textures and arrange the elements to reflect our attitude.

feng shui, my sisbrahthren.

lest we forget, behind the wallpaper, over our heads and under the furniture lies the structural edifice itself Unlike decor, must be both practical and structurally sound. Doesn't matter that we painted a h3tty starscape on the ceiling if it's gonna fall on our head next week. so let's switch metaphors and tin-foil hats and now envision ourselves not only as interior designers but architectural re-designers as well, because CHANGE IS, and therefore we must operate from a dynamic perspective.

In spite of the ubiquitious nature of change, it is counter-intuitive to our hard-wired animal nature which tends to direct our survival instinct through a hierarchal chain: simple survival in the here-and now (fight/flight)>short term security>long term stability/comfort.

And so, in spite of being participants in a universe that is defined by constant change, we continue to foolishly set our fallacious foundations in firm bedrock.

Shift gears.

Consider Reality Television.

The term itself is the penultimate triumph of Orwellian Doublespeak, and worthy of further exploration, but I bring it into the mix at this moment only because the cancerous genre has a particular sub-category identified by such catchy phrases as "extreme home make-overs."

You wanna see an extreme home makeover?

Rent me a bulldozer and bring your camera crew.

That's extreme make-over taken to its, well, extreme, but it's only optimal if the building's lost its practicality and its ability to maintain structural integrity.

Sometimes it's a painful necessity, like when your pretty little cottage is built on the fault line that separates the flat earth theory from our current perception of the shape of the planet based on modern scientific observation.

In most cases, however, there's something worth saving. Wisdom lies in determining what stays and what is replaced.

There's another alternative.

Trade it in for a tent, a good sleeping bag, and a land rover. Or a camel, if you prefer.


In order to survive, we seek shelter from the harsh elements and the natural predators. But too much time spent in a cave leaves one prone to sunburn when at last he ventures out.

CHANGE IS. No dwelling is permanent.

Reality is not etched in stone. If truth is to be found, it is as much in the wind-blown sand that erodes the pillars as it is in the carefully etched absolutes that adorn the temple that the pillars uphold.

A fluid, dynamic universe calls for a fluid paradigm; a constantly morphing/evolving/mutating mythos/fairy tale/reality tunnel/belief system.

Sanity Claus just can't seem to fill his own boots no mo'.

Ho ho ho.

Bop. Bop. Bop-bop.

I KISS my reflection in the mirror each morning.

keep it simple, st00pid.

Just as bucky defied the western architectural mindset with the utter beauty and simplicity of the geodesic dome, we can apply the same "simple-minded" approach to the construction of our New Fairy Tales. Recognize the divine geometry implicit in the very nature of Love, the metaphysical gravitational force that underlies the gossamer web of dynamic,interactive, ever-evolving human relationship.

intensified hooked-upedness

total constant connectivity

we've already invoked the technological, n minus one dimensional model of gaian consciousness into being.

Virtual Reality.

A wireless, global ether-network. digital, faerie dust info-particles carried by invisible trade winds jet streams and wormholes, across the great void of space and time, to miraculously regroup and reconstruct their original form upon reaching their desired destination.

Beam me up, Scotty.

I'm thinking about you right now, and although you can see the platonic cave shadow image of my thoughts on the screen before you, the real message is written and transmitted in the language of love and is being received in your heart RIGHT NOW RIGHT AT THIS MOMENT; WHEREVER, WHENEVER AND WHOEVER YOU ARE.

There are no firewalls, no filtering programs, no censor-bots here. All information is declassified and distributed freely and voluntarily in the "gaian ethernet."
Laugh at my fairy tale. Laugh long and hard and it will come to life before your eyes, for it is fnord in disguise and you've been wearing those ruby red slippers all along.

Magick is Nature and Nature is Magick. There is no duality, no separation no sidelines from whence any Monotheistic Grand Poobah/Coach can call the shots.

The universe is a conspiracy and we're all in on it.

There is no escape. all that is, is. As the illusion of boundaries dissolve, all that's left is relationship; connectivity.


We are all together.

The eggman is the walrus and vice versa.

All that is, is, and so are you and I. There is no "other." There is no them.

Bells theorem applies UNIVERSALLY.

You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows, and while it may not be within my own means to suck my own caulk, I sure can blow my own mind, and I didn't need a bunch of computer geeks with complex nonlinear equations graphed in 256 colors to notice that the universe has a tendency to iterate itself similarly across scale.

From soup to nuts, no matter how you serve it up, it all turns to shit, but when you flush the toilet you can observe a miniature spiral galaxy being created and sucked into the black hole void of oblivion right before your eyes.

You can see resemblance in the family tree whether the perspective of the portrait is taken

from space

from earth:

or from within the microscopic landscape of our own inner being:

the pictures all tell the same story better than my words do, but from here it looks like a tale of a world that is engaged in the process of reaching out and touching itself.

Makes perfect sense.

when you are all that is and all that is, is you, there is no them, no other.

Nobody else to play with.

Cozmic masturbation as a metaphor for the new paradigm.

Don't be shy, give it a try.

You know you want to.

Feels good, yes?

And so I leave you to toy with your own thoughts, that is to say, with a most loving and kindly spirit and sentiment, "Go fuck yourself."

Monday, February 2, 2009

The Music DIDN'T Die

Fifty years gone. Fate has a habit of prematurely snuffing our modern day minstrels, but the spirit of the music lives on.