Prometheus Whinced (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2

Name Calling

(First Chapt. is here. Previous is here.)

"Gloatson! Have the report to me by day's end."

This is not good, he thinks. Usually we are on first name basis. John and Jack. Today he greets me by surname. Means I'm in trouble. Gloatson nods and backs off in genuflection from his boss. Oh, the ignobility, he thinks. To be hit like this as I enter the office. No wonder my face is turned red like an iron on coals.

Gloatson continues his retreat, snaking his way quietly around the outer walls of the office towards the sanctuary of his cubicle. He hopes no one spots him or his ironed red face. Good. Here it is. Gloatson's Gulch. This is my cave of tranquility. My perch of productivity. The eagle has landed. In here I can lick my wounds and regain my senses.

He slips in through the cubicle's entrance and drops himself like a dejected mass into the embracing center of an imitation leather executive's chair. The burgundy throne serves as the center piece of his efficiently compact cubicle. On the glass of his computer monitor he spots his face reflecting back at himself with its iron red embarrassment fading back toward normalcy. Behind the vision of himself looking at himself, he spots the tufts of cheap foam popping out from between the splitting seams of his chair's backside.

Never mind the illusionary signs of decay, he thinks. All is well. This fine executive chair is plush furniture befitting an "analyst" of my stature. He reaches out and prods the power button on his office computer. Its innards begin whirring to life. Gloatson crosses his arms to comfort himself, stroking each arm pit with the other's hand as he waits impatiently for the machine to boot up and open the tunnel into his virtual alter life. Who is John Gloatson and how did he get to this place? That is the question.

It was not long ago that he bothered not with the question. Life was moving along well enough. Everything made perfect sense. I am an analyst. I am an indispensable part of LG Petroleum. Sure, some make mock of the company's name, calling it Last Gasp Petroleum. That's not who we are. We are Logistic Geometrics Petroleum. We excel at pin pointing and analyzing opportunities that others miss. We find the sweet spots. This is what productivity is all about. And I, as an analyst, am at the center of the enterprise; an indispensable cog in a grander machine.

His calendar pops up on the computer's screen. Today's to-do list. Finish the quarterly production report. Yes of course this is what the entrance counter with Jack was all about. But now the details. What's missing? Ah yes. There it is. We haven't gotten the final numbers in from the Tajikistan operations. I'll have to call and prod them.

The trouble with Tajikistan is that those jokers are on the wrong side of the planet. If he calls now, maybe he'll get the evening shift engineer.

"Yakov, it's Gloatson here, you know, at LGP headquarters.
Chatter comes back from the other end.
"Why no, no financial crisises here at HQ. I just need your final production numbers for end of last month and I need you to make them good numbers."
More chatter at the other end.
"No. I understand you can't create production out of thin air. But you know how it goes. You can borrow some of next month's production and reflect it back into the previous month's numbers. That's sound practice any place you go now adays."
Screaming coming from the other end. Oh yeah, I'd forgotten, Gloatson thinks. We already borrowed last quarter from this one and that's why we're so far behind.

Gloatson hangs up and leans back into his chair. Unconsciously he sucks an upper lip's flap into his mouth and bites on it. Not good. This stinks. Jack wants good numbers. These numbers stink. Who's going to take the fall for this? It's not fair. I'm just an analyst. It's not my fault.

... to be continued (a work in progress ... or possibly in digress)

Prometheus Whinced (apologies to Ayn Rand)

Chapter 1

The Awakening

Dream busting bites of sound cackle from the digital clock radio. "Breaking news for those of you just joining us ..."

One eye wills itself open, not sure joining is a good idea. Six naught zero AM on the bedside table. Oh please let it not be Monday.

Reality strikes alongside with an arm stroking out to smack down the snooze button. Monday morning it is. Another dawn of dragging one's zom-body out of bed and off to work. One leg is numbingly negotiating its way out from under the covers. Now if only the lame other will obediently follow. It refuses. Maybe morning's ritual can be postponed for a just few more minutes of bliss giving sleep? He lays there, half in, half out of bed. Bargaining with himself.

The alarm flares up again. "The markets will open shortly ..." No use. Snooze and shut off. Inevitability arrives on its own terms. No more bargaining. No more hand-offs of responsibility to the clock radio contraption. He concedes to reality and swings fully out from the covers, all the while sensing the strong urge for caffeine welling up within. Last night's dream is already fading from remembrance. What was it again? Something about a vague foreboding. Oh never mind.

In the kitchen, the gas gasps and flutters under the cold stove plate before hissing out through the tiny burner holes. An electric sparker clicks erratically somewhere under and finally ignites into a multitude of blue glowing flames. A welcoming blanket of warm radiance rises to his face as the dancing flames cascade upwardly from under the water kettle. Thank goodness it's working today. He dreads those days when one must resort to primitive resourcefulness. Being left bare in the cold and without hot coffee. Just imagine. He shudders.

He hears her stirring about in the bedroom. Brushing her hair. She will be dressed, ready and out for work well before the java rejuvenates his tortoise-paced arthritic body. Such are the advantages of youth. He stares into the flickering blue flames while flip flopping between two minds on what next to do. Go out and fetch the morning paper from the terrace or wait for the water to boil?

Too late. The kettle's shrill whistle interrupts his internalized ping pong game. She leans into view and plants a wet kiss on his cheek. "I'm picking up my Grande Mocha at the Bucks. See you tonight." As expected, she is dressed and out the door well before he has even decided which shoes to wear. It will be a lonely cold walk to the Island today. Where did the time fly on to?

We are truly blessed, he thinks to himself while stepping out into the cold morning fog with hands tucked in his long banker's overcoat. The car pool island is just under a mile away. Our son is enrolled in Government Liberty School. We still both have jobs. It's not like being one of those poor saps who must volunteer to serve in the war. Nonetheless, I miss the days when I had a car and my own at-home net connection. Too expensive these days.

Approaching the finance connection island, he continues to muse to himself. Thank goodness I stuck with my studies and became a certified analyst. The financial circle has its privileges. We can use credit cards to pay our fair fuel fare. Not like those poor jackals over there at the day labor island. He looks across the boulevard. They have to grub for cash every morning. We get those plush commute buses or at least the inside of a spacious SUV while they jostle with each other to squeeze into the open back of a pickup. Finance has its privileges.

"Pleaz, zombody, can you spare von credit? I needz da job today." It's one of the proles begging across the way at the day labor island. Seems he doesn't have enough to get in on a ride. Why should I be the one even to worry about helping? There are plenty of others. His own kind. Besides, those proles will just as likely shank you in the dark as thank you in the morning. Oh good. Our bus is here. He quickly swivels away to focus on his step up into the warm stairwell of the large dark bus.

Seated with head leaning against the blackened bus window he half closes his eyes as the diesel bellowing machine races past the stink and squalor of the day labor slums. Board member Ben is right. From each according to his productivity, to each according to his value. What could be fairer? People are not born equal. Some are just by nature more productive than others. And for that, they deserve the greater value that they contribute to society. Simple as that. It was so delusional to believe that all men might be created equal. Look at those proles out there. What do they contribute? They are nothing but parasites feeding off the productivity of others. I, on the other hand, am a certified analyst, a specialist among specialists.

The brass noise from morning rush hour in the city intrudes into his thoughts. He realizes he dozed off again. The bus brakes screech in protest as the behemoth machine pulls into the company garage. This is his stop. Time to face the music.

next chapt.

Ma Felled Ammericans, Happy Trails and Sputnik Ways to Ya'all

On the radio the other day, John Kao the author of a book called "Innovation Nation (How America is Losing It)" was discussing the downfall of America in technology and innovation.

What better way to appreciate how the USA has fallen than to celebrate the 50th anniversary of
the launch of Sputnik
(Oct. 4, 1957) with a review of how America has become the anti-science nation?

Just mosie on down to yer' ole' shopping mall in search of the science kits for kids shop

It ain't there.

Nikita Khrushchev was half wrong and half right. They didn't "bury" us. We did it all on our own. We buried ourselves. We're so deep under we don't know it anymore. We know Britney Spears instead.

Maybe the headlines should have read: "Britney Loses Her Kids and America Loses Its Kids"? But it didn't. The focus was entirely on Britney. Nikita Krushchev would have been proud.

"NEVER too late"

The homo sapie-brained leader of the Western Lemming digs extolls his followers to continue their relentless march over the cliff. Stay the course.

"It is never too late to support our troops in a fight they can win," he cheerfully explained to his yes can-do admirers. "It is never too late to advance freedom."

Of course the absolutism of "NEVER too late" will not help the troops pictured above. This is a fight they cannot win. They are gone forever from this reality-based plane of existence.

The optimistic delusionism of "NEVER too late" will not help the mothers of the troops pictured above. Those mothers raised "the troops" from little babies to strappingly fine grown men. They changed their diapers. They wiped the tears. They stayed awake through the feverish nights of youth's illness and they waited anxiously by the window for Johnny to come marching home from his first date out with the girl next door.

Then one day there came the cattle call from the cowboy leader for the grown and educated young men to serve the "noble cause". They gladly went. Hands over patriotic hearts. Eyes affixed on a waving flag of blood red stripes and saintly white aisles keeping them apart. "A uniter, not a divider," he said. A field of stars clung to flag's edge to navigate them towards their ultimate sacrifice. Yes it was a noble leap forward into fate's hand. Every young lemming feels the surge during the rush of a spring day's race toward greener pastures.

But for the homo-sapien mothers, it is too late. For the lifeless bodies of their dead young sons, it is too late.

The Manly Flop Flipper

If you recall your history, the human to the right (a.k.a. G.W. Bush) presented himself to his nation as an epitome of decisive manhood; a mission accomplished kind of guy.

No "flip flopper" was he. No siree.

When he set himself on a course, he stuck to it whether it was a flop or a heck-of-a-job success.

Therefore, when it came to pass that one of his ventures was labeled a "flop", he did what any entrepreneurial reframer of the language would do. He "flipped" the flop. He relabeled it as a success-in-progress. It just needed a few of its benchmarks filled in a little better. Otherwise it was yet another mission accomplished. Heck of a job there Mr. Flop Flipper.

The Planning Primate's Primer

Man prides himself as being the only critter on the planet who plans, who sees ahead into the future and formulates a clever strategy, who knows how to predict and prepare for that which will be obvious to all in hindsight, but clear to only a rare few in the prologue period.

A hat tip to Kurt Cobb for aiming the scope at the issue of the planning animal. Is it true that man is the only critter who formulates stories in his head about how the world works and then acts on the basis of his modeled fantasies? Don't all mammals plan ahead? Do they not build nests for their hatchlings, dens for their little lemms? Do they not burrow their way towards prosperity?

And if indeed Man is the most clever of all creatures, why can't he see the inevitable? Why does he not realize that the planet is finite? There is only so much of that thin film we call our atmosphere into which man can pump his CO2. There is only so much of that thin pizza crust below us in which man has a chance of finding his precious oil.

Huff and Puff and Make the Stuff Flow

Two delusional posts of today caught our attention here at the Lemming Institute of Grandiose Human Thinkfoolery (The LIGHT).

First there is this one over at the Huff and Puff Ranch. Esteemed scientist and commodities honcho Raymond Learsy assures his fellow humanoids that the oil will gush forever. He does so with compelling ad hominen attacks:

When I speak of the "fabricated drama of peak oil" I am referring to the oft repeated and over heated claim that the end is "near" even as the nearness of "near" continues to drift just out of reach. Yes, there are oil fields that are diminishing. And if the peakist miss the point, yes, they once panned gold in California, and they once pumped oil in Pennsylvania. But new oil is to be found, and is being found throughout the globe and made increasingly accessible by innovations in exploration and technology from deepwater fields in the Gulf of Mexico, Cambodia, Africa, China, India, offshore Sakhalin, the marginally tapped Canadian oil sands, the Venezuelan Orinoco deposits, our Western shale oil, our currently offlimit offshore and Alaskan deposits, and of course the potential buried in the Artic and the enormous potential of a peaceful Iraq whose oil resources, were they ever to be fully developed, could conceivably challenge those of Saudi Arabia. The list could go on. With past history as example of the tenuousness of predicting reserves, in 1970 OPEC members supposedly had 412 billion barrels of oil. In the thirty subsequent years they pumped 307 billion barrels and, lo and behold, then claimed 819 billion barrels in reserve. That amount has increased substantially with Saudi Arabia's recently revised figures of available reserves. In this case it seems the more you produce the more you have.

Come again? The more you produce the more you have? Does this unifying theorem of everything apply to BS? Obviously it does. And you Mr. Learsy are the Ghawar of BS. (By the way Mr. Resources Expert, the contraction for "it is" comes with an apostrophe before the s; it's, not its. Example: It's true that everything you said smells of its own emanations.)

The second corpulent flow of gushing bombastickness comes once again from the Huff and Puff Dude Ranch and Methane Production Center. In this piece of human thinkfoolery, Mr. Gregerman instructs his species mates to go out there and "innovate" like there is no tomorrow.

So before you lament that "geniuses" aren't hanging out at the water cooler or by the coffee pot at your office, take heart in a very different view of the world of innovation and the potential of your company or organization to prosper in the future. Because, whether you realize it or not, you are literally surrounded by geniuses and brilliant ideas and your challenge is to get off your individual and collective butts to unlock them. (And even if you're not convinced that all of your colleagues are geniuses, remember that half of them are "above average.")

OKee Dokee. We'll hang onto that deep think thought. By necessity it tell us that half (yes 50%) of the loonies at the insane asylum are "above" average. So let's say we have 5 inmates in one Human Thinkfoolery Institute with respective IQ's of:
10, 15, 20, 25 and 80.
The average IQ is therefore 30.
And clearly half of this population of five loonies is up there in the "above average" category according to Innovation Mastermind, Mr. Gregerman. No wonder the human race is going places. We are happy to remain as ourselves, deep digging Lemmings --always burrowing our way towards prosperity. We pray that one day soon, and for the sake of you humanoids as well as the Planet, evolution will shift your chimp driven brains towards rational thinking.

The Borelli Chronicles

I am Tom Borelli, a portfolio manager ...
While science [and it's] implicating human activity [as being responsible for] global warming is uncertain and speculative,
the economic costs of cap and trade legislation are certain and severe.

We Lemmings wish for certain we could be kidding to you. But alas fellow Kahzakstanians and other citizens of the Planet, this is how the human creatures on the rightward bank think. "Science" is wrong and uncertain. "Economics" is unquestionably the only true view of how the Universe could work and must work. There is no other possibility.
Here is more of among the sayings of Chairman Borelli:

Our entire government - and many business leaders as well - need a heavy dose of re-education in the ways of free enterprise and free markets if Americans are to maintain the highest standard of living the world has ever known.

We want to tell you it is untrue. But this indeed is what the Chairman proclaimed at recent Senate hearings on Climate Change:

From the perspective of a portfolio manager, I am extremely concerned about the economic impact of cap and trade legislation on the economy and our portfolio. Growth of the stock market depends on a cheap and plentiful energy supply to feed a thriving economy. Capping energy is capping economic growth.

Mississippi: The "We Know It All" State

Mississippians understand the current energy problem, and we know the solution. In fact, we're implementing it right now. Our state is leading the way in both traditional energy and alternative fuels research and production.
Under construction around Mississippi are advanced new ethanol, biodiesel and lignite plants. Mississippi farmers are growing more corn and other material that can be used for alternative fuels.

That's right folk. Senator Trent Lott has "the answer". Mississippi is the "We know the solution" state. Missouri on the other hand, is dying to know because they are the "show me" state. Here is more on how Mississippi's US Senator Trent Lott (R) sees the solution:

To enact a working energy policy, Congress must ditch the special interest "watchdog" groups and instead start watching the American people. If we craft energy legislation around America's market demand for energy and first-world innovation, America could quickly overcome our dependence on third-world nations for so much of our energy.
I'm for increasing automobile mileage standards. I'm for prosecuting price gougers. I'm for renewable and clean energy. But considered unilaterally, these are not solutions, but mere statements designed primarily for political purposes.

That is the real reason why the current Democrat's Energy Bill is stalled in the US Senate. It has nothing to do with the Iron Triangle.

Oh say can you see? Gee Dee Pee

Human creatures in the Western Digs much adore the color of their urinations.

The self-proclaimed wisest of them, namely, their ECO-NOMINALISTS often stand up proudly and shout, "Gee Dee Pee!"

Here at the Lemming Institute of Geopolitical Human Think-tanking (The LIGHT) we are constantly grappling with the question,
Why do the human economists love this "GDP" term?

Some at our Institute argue that GDP has to do with "Production" as in producing things of "value". More so, they argue that GDP involves the adding up of all creations of "value" within a certain geographic area known as the USA; which is why the humans sometimes relabel their "Gee Dee Pee" proclamations as Gross Domestic Product.

Yet others at our Institute argue that the Western faction of the Human race does not know the difference between things of true "value" and things of anti-value. Look, they point out, at the way the Humans feed themselves for example. They build feeding depots known as "Fast Food" (FF) outlets. They manufacture artificial edibles that are made mostly of animal fat, grease, starch and sugars. They dress these anti-value things up prettily and encourage their young Lemms to devour the stuff.

Then they count how much "money" was made from encouraging Lemm youth to feed at the troughs of toxins. Then they add in the counted up monies to form a large part of their proudly proclaimed, Gee Dee Pee (GDP).

Does that make sense? Is that the sign post of an intelligent species?
Or is it just a race of clowns?

Lemm Iacocca Rages Righteously Against the Cliff

An old Titan of the Iron Triangle has arisen from his burrow hole to give us sage warning and a simpleton's solution: "Where Have All The Leaders [and flowers] Gone?". For you young Lemmings out there who don't and can't be expected to remember him, the Lemm Iacocca was the comeback crafting king of one of the Big Three in automaking, the Chrysler Corporation. Like GM and Ford, Chrysler was a pillar of our civilization. It was a pillar of Rome that could not and must not fall. But it did.

Here is an excerpt from the excerpt of Iacocca's book:

We’ve got a gang of clueless bozos steering our ship of state right over a cliff, we’ve got corporate gangsters stealing us blind, and we can’t even clean up after a hurricane much less build a hybrid car. But instead of getting mad, everyone sits around and nods their heads when the politicians say, “Stay the course.” Stay the course? You’ve got to be kidding. This is America, not the damned Titanic.

Well at least someone in the herd has awakened to see our mainstream mass moving relentlessly toward the cliff.

Question is, why did Lemm Iacocca open his Lemming eyes so late in the game? When did the beam of enlightenment dawn on him that The Market was not providing "us" with the best and the brightest for steering our Titanic away from the Iceberg?

And what of the irony? Is he not, was he not, one of the Ring Masters in the Three Ring Circus of Corporate America: GM-Ford-Chrysler?

Lemm Iacocca is of the born-again belief that there is a steering house on our Ship and that someone lives in the steering house; the someone being those he calls the "clueless bozos steering our Ship of State".

The sad fact is, Mr. Iacocca, there is no one home in the steering house. The machine, the ship, steers itself. It's sort of like a herd of wild steer charging maddingly up the ramp to the slaughter house. Each one of us bullies the one in front to "move forward" lest we all fall behind and become one of the left behinds. It is a blind fear. A primitive fear that drives us forward toward some expected Shining City on the Hill. We are not yet bright enough to understand that the light at the end of the tunnel is a locomotive. We have been trained throughout life to believe that charging forward is "progress". Bully for us. (Or should the old saw instead be: "Bullheaded Bulls are Us"?)

But why bother now to take a retiree's pause, to perchance stop in your bull's charge forward, to step back from the ledge, and to take a sweeping look around you Mr. Iacocca? Don't you know time is a wasting? There are so many things that need to be hurriedly "accomplished". So little time.

We each have our own vial of vital vitamin C's: There are Calves to be birthed and herded through College There are Careers that must be built and nurtured in a Constantly Competitive environment. There are fancy Cars that must be bought. There are Consumptionest Estates of Real that must be accumulated and manicured. There are Commies and Crazed Islamists to be gored in our bull's rage "over there" before they do the same to us "over here". There are Corporate Chiefs to be clothed in gilded parachutes and covered with Cradle to Course (Golf Course) Pensions. We have so much to do. Why stop to stare about and waste time?

Lemm Cocca of course continues to believe in The Machine and its main control point: The Steering Wheel. He insists that it is merely a matter of finding the correct "Leadership" to install in key spots. Just implant one smart leader here and another there. Then by magic, the cliffward charge of our mad herd of bulls will veer toward the more correct direction "forward". Here is another excerpt from Lemm Cocca's rage against the cliff (Where Have All the Leaders Gone?):

But when you look around, you’ve got to ask: “Where have all the leaders gone?” Where are the curious, creative communicators? Where are the people of character, courage, conviction, competence, and common sense? I may be a sucker for alliteration, but I think you get the point.
[Stepback insert: You get The Bull's horn. You get the old "you've got to, you've got to". Don't dare step back and ask Why "you've got to"? Bullies know how to bully the herd forward.]
... Name me an industry leader who is thinking creatively about how we can restore our competitive edge in manufacturing. Who would have believed that there could ever be a time when “the Big Three” referred to Japanese car companies? How did this happen —and more important, what are we going to do about it?
Name me a government leader who can articulate a plan for paying down the debt, or solving the energy crisis, or managing the health care problem. The silence is deafening. But these are the crises that are eating away at our country and milking the middle class dry.

Come now Lemm Coccoa. Not one bray from you about "Peak Oil"? Not one bleat bout "Global Warming"? Not one grunt against "Over Population"? Not one nuanced notion that perhaps the whole corporate mentality and consumerist creed might be corraling us toward our own doom? Lay it all down on "Leadership"? Simple as that?

Flamboyish Lies in the Face of Outright Facts

George Boy Bush insists on not letting "politicians" (read that as Democrats only) interfere with the professional judgments of military generals and tell them (the ones still left "in uniform") "how to do their job".

One would think that an alert fourth estate (a.k.a. Main Stream Media news) would be piling over each other to point out a clear historical fact to the public: G. O. Distorting Bush is the number one Decider/Interferor Man who has consistently over ruled the military professionals.

The name of General Shineski should be plastered over the shoulder of every agree-bobbing news anchor in America on every channel. The silence is deafening though. Who dares to challenge the artificialness of Boy George's supernatural "time table"?

Ours is a Moe, Larry, Curly world after all. A small, small headed world. ... more later

Failure to Burrow: The New Journalists

Well what do you expect from a system that rewards Happy Hal for Shallow streams of pander and punishes Detail Oriented Lem for digging deep and getting to just the facts Mam?

Greg Palast complains here about the new generation of mediocre U.S. reporters.

Another expert complains here about gullibility and lack of skepticism.

However the bottom line is that the capitalist system rewards those who sell low quality fakery over those who sell high quality gems. The Market provides. It just doesn't provide truth and honesty. It provides the brain candy we yearn for.

Be happy. Don't worry. Hal has you covered.

Timing of the Lemm Cho's Leap just too Convenient

A housekeeping note: I'm generally skeptical of conspiracy theories. The human animal is often too bumbling, too mixed up and too irrational to get anything right. The idea that a large group of bungling humans can do anything right stretches the laws of probabilities to their breaking points.

That said, that said in the time framing first place; the timing, reliability-factors and efficiency of the Cho ops is just too good to be believable.

How did he learn to shoot a real gun (not a video one) with such deadly accuracy? How did he learn to deploy a diversionary killing in his dorm, a killing of someone he apparently had no connection to?

Most importantly, April 16th?

What caused his fuse to blow on that magical date?

Think about it.

April 16th was the day before Gonzo's scheduled appearance in the US Senate.

April 16th was the day before most Americans begin fuming over how much they pay in taxes; and for what?

The Cho Choice: Either you're Pro-Cho or you're Pro-Life

False choice: Once again this irrational tactic of rhetorical debate raises its ugly head.

There are only two teams on the football field of life and you must pick your one side now. Either you whole heartedly support everything Cho Seung-Hui did and you are therefore just another subversive Columbine Sympathizer OR you totally dennounce everything he did and you align yourself with the jock elite of America and with those who cry for less than all of the fallen because Cho was a sub-human and therefore does not deserve even one half of a tear drop.

Where have we seen False Flag operations before?

When will we ever learn?

The Cho Flow: He didn't mean "you" you

The human animal is highly narcistic

So when the word "YOU" comes up in a dialouge, our antennas naturally go up and we immediately ask, Are you talking to me? To me?

But as more pieces of the Cho Seung Hui story come out, it becomes painfully obvious that "you" does not mean you. Sorry there big fella. We didn't mean to offend the EGOr in you. Relax, you are still the center of the Universe. But just for a brief moment please allow us to shift the camera and point it to Cho's tormentors:

Once, in a [High School] English class, the teacher had the students read aloud, and when it was Cho's turn, he just looked down in silence, [Chris] Davids recalled. Finally, after the teacher threatened him with an F for participation, Cho started to read in a strange, deep voice that sounded "like he had something in his mouth," Davids said.
"As soon as he started reading, the whole class started laughing and pointing and saying, 'Go back to China,'" Davids said.

Imagine for a moment (Yes, it's hard to keep the camera from swinging back to you. We'll get back to you after this brief ADHD message.) Imagine a line up of all the people who tormented Cho in high school and in college. Imagine that many of the allegations of bullying are true.

Dr Marissa Randozza, a psychologist in Nevada who formerly worked for the US secret service, told The Independent that Cho fitted the pattern of previous school shooters. In 2002 Dr Randozza co-authored a seminal study on school shootings that found that 71 per cent of perpetrators "felt bullied, persecuted or injured by others".
"We found that bullying usually happened closer to the actual shooting [than may have happened in this case]," she said. "In some instances we found that [shooters] were bullied so much it had been a torment, they felt despondent and desperate. It could be this pushed [Cho] into a downward spiral if he experienced bullying before going to Virginia Tech."

Given that kind of context, let's try plugging in the more probable "you" into Cho's allegedly insane rantings:

- "You [who have tormented me] had a hundred billion chances and ways to have avoided today. But you decided to spill my blood. You forced me into a corner and gave me only one option. The decision was yours. Now you [who have tormented me] have blood on your hands that will never wash off."
- "I didn't have to do it. I could have left. I could have fled [Va. Tech]. But now I am no longer running. It's not for me, [it's] for my children and my brothers and sisters that you [who have tormented me] (F-expletived). I did it for them."
- "You [who have tormented me] just loved to crucify me. You loved inducing cancer in my head, terror in my heart and ripping my soul all this time."
- "You [who have tormented me] have vandalized my heart, raped my soul and torched my conscience. You thought it was one pathetic boy's life you were extinguishing. Thanks to you, I die like Jesus Christ, to inspire generations of the weak and the defenseless people."
- "Do you [who have tormented me] know what it feels like to be spit on your face and have trash shoved down your throat? Do you know what it feels like to dig your own grave? Do you know what it feels like to have your throat slashed from ear to ear? Do you know what it feels like to be torched alive? Do you know what it feels like to be humiliated and be impaled upon a cross and left to bleed to death for your amusement?
You [who have tormented me] have never felt a single ounce of pain your whole life. And you want to inject as much misery in our lives because you can, just because you can. You had everything you wanted. Your Mercedes wasn't enough, you brats. Your golden necklaces weren't enough, you snobs. Your trust fund wasn't enough. Your vodka and cognac wasn't enough. All your debaucheries weren't enough. Those weren't enough to fulfill your hedonistic needs. You [who have tormented me] had everything."
- "When the time came, I did it. I had to."

Kind of starts to make sense now, huh?

Disturbingly, Cho is US(A)

Why the fascination with Cho?

Why the insistence that he is not American?

He grew up here.
He was molded here.
For heavens sake, he was an "English" major.

And yet the papers are peppered with mention that he is "Korean". (Oh did we forget to mention that he is "Koran-eeyan"? Did we huh, did we?)

[New Insert:] Sorry folk. I know my recent rant sounds almost as cognitively disconnected as Cho's. The point to think about is this. Cho was not born speaking English. The English words that came out of his mouth were programmed into him by the culture he encounterd here, in the good old USSA. Below is some verse I found out there on the internet. It's not Cho's. It looks like some sort of popular teen lyrics perhaps. I don't know. Do you? Compare the lyrics to Cho's rants. Are you spotting similarities? Where did Cho pick up this concept of "vandalizing my heart"? What did it mean to him? Watch Cho's video (CNN copy here). He is clearly reading from a prepared text. The text appears to have originated in popular American culture, in song lyrics, or rap lyrics; things like that. Note that MSM refuses to pick up on the cues. Sticks and stones can break my bones, but .... hmmm.

In the below, all I did was Google some of the weird phrases Cho used to see if there is similar phraseology on the Internet. This is something any journalist with half a shred of original thought could have done. But no. They all paint Cho's troubled brain as a Seouless Cold Blooded Murderer. A monster. Not one of us. Not from us. One of "them". One from the other herd.

Google search #1: "Vandalized My Heart" Results: Eatbees, OldBoy, Wonky, ClueHunter, DemonHunter, more ...

Vandalized My Heart
I trusted you without being asked to.
I loved you without being told to.
I helped you without being begged to.
I showed you happiness without being forced to.

I cared for you without your consent.
I listened to you without ever interrupting.
I sacrificed my time so you would feel better.
I gave you a friend without all the hard work.
I told you all my secrets on my own will.
I let you into my life with a simple knock on the door.
(more & more ...)

Compare the above Vandalized lyrics to some of Cho's own words:

"You have vandalized my heart,
raped my soul and torched my conscience.
You thought it was one pathetic boy's life you were extinguishing. Thanks to you, I die like Jesus Christ, to inspire generations of the weak and the defenseless people."

Google search #2: "Raped my soul" Results: SkornLyrics, KathrynBeMine,

How Green Was my War Zone?

At the Lemming Institute of Global Human Theatrics (The LIGHT) we are always fascinated with the human creature's attraction to primary colors (Red, Green, Blue; or RGB for short).

As of late, GREEN, is the color of The Glory and The Salvation for them.

GREEN, decodes into so many complicated ideations in their primate prefrontals.

GREEN, is the color of a War Zone in which they feel strangely fail safe.

GREEN, is the color of their MONEY, a span of their federal reserves and a measure of their envy.

GREEN, means never having to say you're Ecologically Incorrect (EI).

GREEN, is the "New" Red, White and Blue (according to one of their great philosophers).

RED, on the other hand means that you are no tree-hugging commie pinko heart bleeder. When you see RED, you are angry. You are conseRvative and Right tilted; but most of all you are angry. You are angry at that Green Gobble Gobble Gore turkey. It's his fault. He makes you see Red. He Rubs you the wRong way. His Greenie ways gouge a great gash into your Red-Blooded Patriotic Heart. Your Red, White and, err ... Red again angry Heart.

Nuke-a-topia unfairly linked to life-loving lemmings

Hey. Unfair. Why drag the good name of life-loving burrow-happy lemmings into this?

The fifty-year multi-trillion dollar failure of atomic energy has resumed its lemming-like march to madness.

Lemmings prefer to live a radiation-free life. If the Lemm Lord had meant for us to be irradiated, He would not have gifted our glorious planet with a magnetic shield and an ozone layer.

Rage, yes, Rage against the precipice. Do not fall so freely for the lurid lure of fall out. Do not go gently into that green glow dark of nuclear night. There are alternatives. Step back and return to thine senses. Oh you humanity.

(Well my fellow lemms, what say you now? Do we unleash the rodent flu on the planet plundering humans or do we wait some more for signs of intelligent life amongst them? The hour grows short.)

Stepping Up

Al Gore unveils a new Step (it) Up campaign. (Click on image)

As If They Were Bananas

Yesterday's Supreme Court decision (Mass. v. EPA) still baffles many a reader. What was it about? Who won? What did they win?

Forget about the "law" for a moment and think back to Woody Allen's movie, "Bananas". There is a scene in there where the allegedly benevolent dictator takes over, goes mad (goes bananas) and declares that all citizens must now wear their underwear on the outside instead of down under where they used to.

How would the U.S. Supreme Court handle such a situtation if, say, some concerned citizens sued and wanted the Dictator to deregulate underwear?

The conservative 4 on the bench may see it this way: He is after all the Administrator (El Dictator). He is entitled to do what is appropriate in "his judgment". Who are we to interfere with the judgment of El Dictator? The people have no standing to complain about the underwear situation. We say, "stay the course". Keep the underwear on the outside. Conservativism is all about avoiding change.

The bleeding brain liberals may see it this way: Although the law says "his judgment"; surely the law makers could not have been so stupid as to mean even if the Adminstrator is irrational. Besides, another part of the law requires the Administrator (Dictator) to demonstrate that he is rational by articulating a "reasonable" explantion for his ruling. Ergo, since he has not yet articulated any rational explanation, the people do have a right to challenge his sanity.

Well there you have it. The 5-to-4 majority in Mass. v. EPA is saying that the EPA's Adminstrator must demonstrate that he is not bananas in refusing to regulate CO2 emissions from automobiles. So far, in "their judgment" he has not risen to the reasonably rational level. On the other hand, CO2 levels have risen to the reasonably alarm-worthy level.

Hanging to the Ledge by Slimmest Edge (Mass v. EPA)

The opinion

Respected scientists believe ... [that] when carbon dioxide is released into the atmosphere, it acts like the ceiling of a greenhouse, trapping solar energy and retarding the escape of reflected heat. It is therefore a species —the most important species—of a “greenhouse gas.”

... In the late 1970’s, the Federal Government began devoting serious attention to the possibility that carbon dioxide emissions associated with human activity could provoke climate change. In 1978, Congress enacted the National Climate Program Act, 92 Stat. 601, which required the President to establish a program to “assist the Nation and the world to understand and respond to natural and maninduced climate processes and their implications,” id., §3. President Carter, in turn, asked the National Research Council, the working arm of the National Academy of Sciences, to investigate the subject. The Council’s response was unequivocal: “If carbon dioxide continues to increase, the study group finds no reason to doubt that climate changes will result and no reason to believe that these changes will be negligible. . . . A wait-and-see policy may mean waiting until it is too late.”

For Whom The School Bell Tolls

All Lemmings are created equal.

Some Lemmings, though, are more equal than others.

Consider if you will the case of Lemm Tillman (no affiliation to the lawyer Lemm, Tillem).

Clearly Tillman was chosen by the Lemm Lord to be deserving of extra praise, of extra adulation and extraordinary treatment. He was gifted with an athletic body and a statuesque countenance. This was a sign from the Lemm Lords. The cheerleaders knew and they cheered him his whole life. They all came to weep for him, over his flag draped coffin, after he had made the "ultimate sacrifice," the one that put him over the edge of the ledge "for God and Country". Truly Mother Nature can look us square in the eyes and proclaim that this was a True Lemm, a Noble Lemm.

Consider on the other hand, the case of Casey, the SheLemm Cindy's unworthy son. He was and is a nobody. He did not play varsity lemmball. He did not pledge allegiance at every game. He did not garner the spot light. The cheer leaders did come a weeping to his grave site. No. Only one bleeding heart, left titling and unworthy mother stood over his mound. Who is she? Who was he? Nobodies.

God Bless Lemmerica, Land that we love.

Most of all, God bless our jock elite, the ones who truly count.

More ...

Freedom's Edge

Don't tread on me. ... Live free or die. These are the words enshrined in America's concept of "freedom", of the "American Dream" itself. We take it as a given that all men are born with the inalienable right to acquire property and pursue happiness in whatever manner they see fit. For what else do you think the American Revolutionary War was fought? For what other reason did all our grandfathered forefathers come to America in the first place?

So when Al Gore shows up to testify in Congress that carbon must be taxed and no man is any longer his own SUV island; well of course those who defend our "freedoms" are going to see red. They're going to see Al as a Pinko Commie traitor rather that as Jesus incarnate come here to "Save the World".

Two diametrically opposed views of how the world should be. A classic confrontation between those who want no government (anarchy) and those who want central environmental planning (Greenarchy). Which way will America row her boat?

Ya All Invited to an Old Fashion Cook Up

Fiddling while Civilization burns is a time honored tradition. Heck why even Nero did it. So ya all invited (even you Al) to a good old fashion Oklahomie cook up. We's a frying up the Planet Earth. Not to worry. The Sun is warming. The polars caps on Mars are melting. And soon we all are just gonna pick up and move to that new frontier. It's a Western tradition.

In the mean time why don't ya all (even you homie-boy Al'star) mosey over to the Inhofe ranch for a great Barbara Boxer-Q. We're using the best of ingredients to fire up this old cow. Some Oklahoma crude oil, a bit of natural gas and lots of home dug clean coal.

Got some good music planned for ya all. The Homa Town Hoaxters is gonna be playing their new hit, "Hot Town and the Homa's Sizzlin". It's a sure fire winner.

Smiling and Serious Science

This is a smiling infant orangutan.

This is a smiling scientist of the allegedly "skeptical kind" according to this New York Times Science article.

This is a scientific "observation".

This is a scientific "observation".

Smiling is associated with being happy and sometimes with being blissfully ignorant of what is coming your way.
Tilting one's head is associated with polite dissent. With deceptive appearance of agreeing while not agreeing.
Are you smiling?
Is your head tilted?
Or do you still step back to the hard science?

Edging Al Out of Our Herd and Hearts, Stage Left

To your right is a headline snapshot from the venerable New York Times (NYT).

Many have termed this anti-Gore piece as "slime" and "sloppy" journalism. But is it? Is it slop or broadly speaking, a work of superb craftsmanship? Did NYT journalist William Broad author all of this all by himself? Or is it just another example of journalistic pretexting? Did he have help? And if yes, from whom?

An up close inspection is warranted here Watson. Who is William Broad? How can such a precisely engineered psycho-linguistic banner ("Rapt Audience"), overlaid on a photoshopped photo of a Green Glowing Gore be an example of "sloppiness"? Maybe, instead it is a carefully orchestrated hit job, a swift boat torpedo strike caught in its tracks? And launched from none other than the S.S. NYT?

Michael Shaw unveils here one of the many visual connotations to be drawn between the photo and placement of the banner word, "Hype".

Joe Brewer reveals here a "framed" view of the NYT torpedo launch.

See the original NY Times article here.

But there is so much more to be found in the fine details of this crafted work. There is the picture. There is the headline. There are the three alarm fire words.

What's In a Picture?

Now remember to use {Alt}+{Tab} while toggling {Tab} to jump back and forth as you launch this blowup of picture A (from the NYT page). and this blowup of picture B (from an independent source).

Do you see any differences? Keep switching back and forth.

Are you starting to notice anything? Was that dirty storm a creamy donut in the center? Was Al's shirts faded and dirty or bright shiny blue? Not sure about what Al's shirt usually looks like? Then look here. And here. Do a little comparison shopping. Have you been photo-shopped? Surprised? Here is the original NY Times page again.

What's In a Word?

Look at the NY Times Headline. What's in a title?

Note the "Rapt Audience". Observe that "Rapt Audience" resonates with "Wrapped Audience".

Yes, "wrapped" as in separately covered, insulated, safe, and spaced apart from the looney loner on stage. The Green Glow Geek is out there on stage left and "we" are all here, safely wrapped in the audience, cuddling up with the doubting scientists. Why that makes all of us "doubting scientists". That makes all of us rational thinkers. And we are proud to be so. Proud to be part of the main stream. The creamy white center.

Only lonely, looney Gore is out there, marginalized on stage left and listening to the "wrapped audience" hissing at him, telling him to Cool his Hype. It's all true. Isn't it?

Go ahead and deny it.

But your brain isn't that dumb.

It saw.

It understood.

It received all the mixed messages.

It absorbed all the mixed messages, subconsciously, behind your forehead.

We could go on and on to demonstrate the reverse suspension of disbelief in the opening line of the NYT hit piece. The substantive message of Gore's performance is stealthfully twisted into an "alarmist's" delusions, an on-fire film. It is the work product of the few loonies of Hollywood and of the gullible majority of scientists. But luckily for us, a cadre of doubting Michaels have emerged from the dark audience, from the wrapped silence, to cool our minds with their hypnotizing hyperbole. And for that we thank them.

Cyber Tooth Tigers (Part 2)

Weight and Switch

Are recent rumors of Cyber Tooth Tiger sightings true?

Isn't the real truth that men did not co-exist with them?

Ignore the possibility at your peril

Then again, you might want to consider this:

Michael Crichton's essay " Why Politicized Science is Dangerous".

The essay is posted on his "State of Fear" site. Crichton is a master at psycho-linguistic manipulation. He is indeed a Cyber Tooth Tiger. A sleek, clever, killer writing machine who knows how to home in on all the weak spots in your neural networks with just a couple of jabs of his sharpened quills. Let's see how it is done.

Imagine that there is a new scientific theory that warns of an impending crisis, and points to a way out. This theory quickly draws support from leading scientists, politicians and celebrities around the world. Research is funded by distinguished philanthropies, and carried out at prestigious universities. The crisis is reported frequently in the media. The science is taught in college and high school classrooms. I don't mean global warming. I'm talking about another theory, which rose to prominence a century ago. ... Its supporters included Theodore Roosevelt ... The theory was eugenics, and its history is so dreadful --- and, to those who were caught up in it, so embarrassing --- that it is now rarely discussed. But it is a story that should be well know to every citizen, so that its horrors are not repeated.

So were you paying attention to what was happening in the different parts of your brain? Did you speed read? Did you step back afterwards to critically analyze each pre-planned chess move?

The above is of course just an abridged and annotated excerpt. In the actual essay (linked to above), the Cyber Tooth Tiger takes his time, sneaks up on you more slowly, guides you into the trap more craftily. Here we just wanted to cut to the chase and kill. In general, Michael managed to put GW (or PO) on equal footing with eugenics , and ultimately with Nazism (equal weighting) and by so doing, discredit all of them at once. Weight and switch. Clever, no?

How exactly did he do it? Let's pause for a bit of background. In general, the human brain operates as a "neural net". It is structured to assign different weights to different inputs. So in the case of Nate's article regarding "future discounting" (discussed one post below), a very large weight is assigned to inputs dealing with the here-and-now (especially, clear and immediate dangers) while much lower weights are assigned to inputs that deal with the future-and-may_never_happen stuff. If you think about it from an evolution and survival perspective that makes very good sense.

The human brain is "adaptive" though, and quite able to shift weights as the situation unfolds. That is both a strength and a weakness.

With that as background, let's "weight" in with a closer look at the Cyber Tooth's hunting tactics:

Imagine that there is a new scientific theory ....... This theory quickly draws support from leading scientists, politicians .... ....

Michael is playing games with your head from the get go. With word #1 he is getting you to suspend disbelief. Just "Imagine".

He is getting you to think in the future, high tech sense. It's "new" and it's "scientific". You are swimming with the "leading" futurists of our times, the scientists, the celebrities ... "prestigious" universities.

He is playing with your need for social validation and for instant gratification. The theory is "quickly" adopted by society's "leaders". Are you willing at this point to mentally swim away from this prestigious school of fish? Are you willing to place yourself outside of the main stream? Of course not. We all want to be part of the Main Stream Meditation (MSM). We all want to be safely tucked in the middle of the social group. Let's examine some of the more subtle chess moves just played by our crafty Toother:

Imagine .... This theory quickly draws support [and] ... The science is taught in college and high school classrooms. I don't mean ... . I'm talking about another theory, which rose to prominence a century ago. ... those who were caught up in it, so embarrassing --- that it is now rarely discussed. But it is a story that should be well know to every citizen, so that its horrors are not repeated.

OK. So there you were swimming comfortably with the upper mucky mucks of society. You had been plunged innocently into a dream like and imagined future, all the while mixing it up with celebrities, politicians and other "prestigious" types. It is a happy dream.

Suddenly though, the vortex reverses on itself. You find yourself spinning backwards in time. You are not in a "prestigious" university. You're in college. No. You're in high school. Then you are face to face with Michael, in the first person. The Cyber Tiger has lunged himself right into your personal safety zone. Burst your dream like bubble. And just at that emotionally charged moment, he pulls the switch-aroo. It's not the future anymore he tells you. It's the past he's talking "about". The far back past. A century ago. An unquestionable part of "history". And all while he is crouched there, still in your face.

More disquieting in this situation is the sense that "you" are sitting helplessly trapped in your "highschool classroom". Remember? It is your "history" teacher's classroom to be more specific because we are talking about Roosevelt and other historical figures. Remember? And now here we are in high school worrying about dreadful "embarassment" and "horrors". Did you spot all that? You're worrying about "repeating" the mistakes of history and being doomed by it. Did you spot all that?

Go back to the top of Michael's essay again. Observe that Michael has been busy activating the reptilian and limbic fear centers in your brain. Were you paying attention? He started by talking about an "impending crisis". Actually, his web page prominently displays the word "Fear" (state of fear). Part of your brain saw it, even though another denies it. He started threatening you with social ostracism, all the while encouraging you to leave on your own. If all the top people accept the new and complicated theory then why shouldn't you? Well because the theory is a "horror". Why there is no difference between any scientific theory and Nazism itself. Do you see the connection now? State of Fear? Nazism? Global Warming supporters? They are all part of the same cultist movement according to Crichton.

Deeper into the essay, Crichton drives the point home with ardent repetition:

Now we are engaged in a great new theory that once again has drawn the support of politicians, scientists, and celebrities around the world. Once again, the theory is promoted by major foundations. Once again, the research is carried out at prestigious universities. Once again, legislation is passed and social programs are urged in its name. Once again, critics are few and harshly dealt with. Once again, the measures being urged have little basis in fact or science. Once again, groups with other agendas are hiding behind a movement that appears high-minded. Once again, claims of moral superiority are used to justify extreme actions. Once again, the fact that some people are hurt is shrugged off because an abstract cause is said to be greater than any human consequences. Once again, vague terms like sustainability and generational justice --- terms that have no agreed definition --- are employed in the service of a new crisis. I am not arguing that global warming is the same as eugenics. But the similarities are not superficial.

[still under construction]

...[under construction] I was trying to play games with your mind also. If you are an English major, you should have noticed that the title of my argument should be Weigh and Switch, not "Weight". What I'm trying to do is to sneak in a hidden connection with "Bait and Switch", which as you know, is a deceptive practice used by some merchants. ... To Be Continued

Cyber Tooth Tigers

If you have not read Nate Hagens' latest post on The Oil Drum, I highly recommend that you do.

Also, right click on the image to the right and open it in a new window for a higher resolution view of the scene. Nate has the following caption under his version of this pre-historic montage:

"Dumbo, caught obsessing about higher planetary CO2, did not leave any descendants"

The point being that in so far as evolution is concerened, worrying about the here-and-now trumps concern over the far off future and the many what-if's that populate it.

Nate provides an excellent discussion regarding "future discounting", this being an aspect of human nature, and indeed of most mammalian brains, to give much less weight to things that might happen in the far off future.

In other words, if your gas tank is near empty and you are on the open highway late at night, your pressing worry is over making it to the next gas station. You are not focused on how perhaps, your burning of the last gallon of gasoline will increase Global Warming or how it may send the world over the top of Hubbert's Peak. You're focused on just making it through the next hour.

The topic here is directed to a different aspect of the Saber Tooth Tiger picture above.

Note that the tiger is taking advantage of Dumbo's neural weighing system. Like all mammals, Dumbo has a nervous system that attaches variable weights to different inputs.

I want to warn you about another kind of tiger, not a Saber Tooth Tiger, but rather about the Cyber Tooth Tigers out there. ... To be Continued