Lemmings on the Ledge

Prometheus Whinced (Chapter 3)

2008-09-14T12:16:00.000-07:00

Chapter 3

Owning the Streets

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

How could this have happened?

One moment I am a respected analyst at LG Petroleum, Floor 25, the next I am out here on street level, with desk contents in a box and not a credit to my wallet. How could this have happened?

Gloatson flashes back through the day's events. The early morning encounter with Jack. The telephone brawl with Yakov. Hitting the "submit" button on his quarterly analyst's report. He knew the numbers were not good. But truth is truth. What did he do that was so wrong? Jack was displeased. Then the call came from HR. We need to talk. Now here he stands. Box in hand. Outside the tall granite building. No job. No way to even get home. Behind him, through the glass panels, the security guards are seen swaggering their way back to the elevator banks now that they have escorted yet another uppity to his new after life, the one beyond LG Petroleum.

"Just got hit between the eyes with the big one, aye buddy?" Gloatson stares blindly forward. A street prole is talking at him. "Wha?" That's all that his keen analyst's mind can muster. "All I was saying is that you look like like you just got canned, or desked-out-in-a-box, if you get my drift," the prole continues with a slight grin.

Gloatson looks the man from boots to brim. Muddied shoes. Torn workman's jeans. A ragged overcoat with hood. Topped by a trucker's cap. "Sorry. What'd you say?"

"Look, don't take it wrong bud. I've stood where you stand. Know what's it's like. I feel for you man. You're stunned. One minute up there," he tilts toward the penthouse floors, "and now down here with us street folk. You didn't expectorate it. Don't let it crush you is all I'm saying. Life goes on." The shadowy stranger glides off and around the corner. Gloatson has not yet moved from his entranced street spot. Speechless.

He replays it all through his head again. The first loop was too hard to handle. Desked-out-in-a-box. Yes. That's the current situation. His total worth is packed tight into the banker's box between his clenched fists. What will his wife say? Never mind that. What now? How to get home without even the company transport pass in his pocket? He never expected this. Not today. Not this way.

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

Prometheus Whinced (Chapter 2)

2007-10-30T04:17:00.000-07:00

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)

2007-10-22T01:11:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-04T04:46:00.000-07:00

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"

2007-09-23T10:11:00.000-07:00

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

2007-09-14T18:13:00.000-07:00

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

2007-07-15T03:53:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-30T03:22:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-29T00:39:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-19T04:02:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-31T04:13:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-09T03:41:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-27T20:19:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-27T15:28:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-22T09:09:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-22T02:05:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-21T01:32:00.000-07:00

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)

2007-04-19T03:17:00.000-07:00

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?

2007-04-15T05:49:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-10T16:07:00.000-07:00

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

2007-04-04T08:19:00.000-07:00

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

As If They Were Bananas

2007-04-03T13:55:00.000-07:00

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)

2007-04-02T08:44:00.000-07:00

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 speciesof a greenhouse gas.

... In the late 1970s, 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 Councils 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

2007-03-30T05:08:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-24T01:47:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-22T08:25:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-19T11:34:00.000-07:00

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".

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

2007-03-16T12:17:00.000-07:00

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)

2007-02-24T17:40:00.000-08:00

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

2007-02-24T14:31:00.000-08:00

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

Blink Think --A way to know not what you know not

2006-12-21T16:45:00.000-08:00

Stop and think about it for a moment.

Each time you blink your eyes, you cut yourself off visually from the exterior world (typically for about 0.3 seconds) --you put yourself in the dark.

And yet you are not aware of it. Your brain fills in the gaps. It morphs from one frame to the next without you being consciously aware that this has happened.

In one sense this is wonderful. Your brain is automatically taking care of many monotonous tasks that would otherwise impede with normal living.

Sometimes, however, this automatic management can be harmful.

An online psycho-analyst by the screen name of "Peak Shrink" asks, "What was your reaction the first time you heard about Peak Oil?"

My answer is, I can't remember.

I can't remember the "first" time. There is only a fuzzy Deja Vu feeling that I had seen Hubbert's curve before. This is so because it is probable that my Blink Think brain took care of the event automatically. It quickly rejected the notion of TEOTWAWKI and washed it out of memory. It must have happened sometime in the 1970's after The Club of Rome announced its results, or during the 1973 oil shock perhaps. I can't remember.

When the 1970's alarm bell rang, so-called expert pundits quickly emerged from the wood works to allay any concerns. "Chicken Little has been wrong every time," they announced. "Trust us. We're experts."

My Blink Think brain sprang into action. That sounds like "sound logic", it said. It erased all memory of the warnings.

The next incident was in the early 1980's, another oil shock. "We've been here before," the pundits announced. "Trust us. We're experts."

My Blink Think brain went into action again. That was true last time, sound logic from mouths that sound good. It erased all memory of the warnings.

It wasn't until around 2004 that a new warning caught my eye between blinks. Mathew Simmons popped out on the TV screen between snap action surfs. "...horizontal drilling techniques ..." he was saying.

Wha ??? What's that? Tech talk? Brain like tech talk. Wait. Hold that button on the remote! Let's listen in ....

He was talking about the big oil fields in Saudia Arabia, about Ghawar and others. Names I hadn't heard before. He was talking about "third generation" extraction techiniques. He was trying to desparately warn us about something.

Of course back then I did not have the Edge-occasion to understand what he was saying. Nonetheless, it caught me between blinks.

.... TO BE CONTINUED ...

PoCo --HiO, a Serenade to the Crude Colored Moon

2006-11-18T16:07:00.000-08:00

(Any connection between characters depicted herein and actual above ground realities is purely your imagination)

Petroleum Professor Ichabod Cranebrain Yergin was poking around the Ohio backwoods one lonely evening, wondering and pondering over certain above-ground contingencies.

A parabolic moon shot silvery shadows from surrounding hilltops and out along the foggy track before him like so many elongated coins rolling just out of reach. He yearned to grasp their meaning. However, an unexpected headwind flapped across his ears at the moment, cutting short his monetary rumminations. "Poke-Ohio" is what the wind seemed to whisper into the over-oiled drums of his ears. The event rattled his nerves somewhat.

To ease his upset, he began to whistle a calming CERA-nade (pronounced "serenade"). Its enchanting lyrics spoke of a boundless Arizona Mesa (a raised plateau of sorts) that lifts out of the desert and fills to its top with undulating waves of wealth and resources. It was a happy tune, one that raises the spirits even when troubling shadows foretell of a time of want. It was a chant oft used by the Suv-aJo Indians of Arizona in their native CERA-monies.

Just beyond a Peakedshale tree, he thought he spied the lurid shape of a young Indian maiden. Her spirited figure seemed to beckon, "Follow on this way my heron-necked friend." Her almost naked form slipped forward into the darkness. He bounded after her, accelerating down the arcing trail, wondering where she would lead him.

He pursued with cornucopian curiosity, still trying to whistle his happy times CERA-nade, perhaps a bit more haltingly and unsuredly than before.

(And as he moved ... he mouse-clicked on every image along his way. You should click here first, start the music and then hit Alt-{Tab} to get back to the unfolding story.)

A cave opened its over-arching mouth for him, laying its frothy tongue invitingly down into a slippery slope underworld. He stepped in and began sliding down, all the while thinking, no it's not a downward slip or a graceless fall from paradise, it's just an undulation from the echo chambers of my mind. Too late to step back, he realized. Shadows on the cave wall sped by, telling him he'd sometime ago been here before. He was coming face to scarface with a troubling truth, an inconvenient answer 'bout what may lie ahead.

Deeper within the subterrestrial hole he began to hear a shrill voice blowing like the wind again and scorning him for his cornucopian ways:

You think you'll own whatever Soil the Oil's in ...

The Earth is just something to prime, pump and undulate ...

But I know every rock, 'n crease, 'n feature,
Has a lie, has porosity, has a rate

You think the only people who are "people"
Are the people who lie and cheat like you
But if you walk the footsteps of an oilman
You'll find unknowable knowables you never knew you never knew

Have you ever heard the drill bite 'neath the cold crude moon?
Or asked the toiling bobcatter why he toils?
Can you sing with all the voices of the hillocks?
Can you paint with all the colors of the oils?
Can you paint with all the colors of the oils?

Come run the hidden siesmic trails of the desert
Come taste the sun-soaked liquids of the Earth
Come roll in all the riches under and around you
And for once, never wonder how to profit from their worth

The rainstorms and the rivers are my brothers
The air and stratosphere are my fresh scent
And we are all connected to each other
In a globe, in a hoop that that breaks when too far bent

Have you ever heard the oil rig groan 'neath the cold crude moon?
Or let the rig fitter tell you where he next will drill?
Can you sing with all the voices of the hillocks?
Can you paint with all the curves of logistic fill?
Can you paint with all the colors of crudeless spill?

How high will all the gushing oil more expand and grow?
If you don't linearize its trajectory, then you'll never know ...
And you'll never near sustainability 'neath the ethanol corn moon

For whether we are poor or of gold colored skins
We need to sing with all the voices of the hillocks
We need to paint with all the colors of bell shaped spins

You can own the Earth and its reserves
But what you'll own is of little worth, ... until
You can paint with all the colors of Hubbert's whims ...

(PoCO-HiO ... it means Party Of Cheap Oil ---Help! It's Over.)

Stuck in Iraq For You, Here I Am

2006-11-02T07:29:00.000-08:00

Stuck In The Middle With You --original lyrics

Well, I don't know why I came here tonight

I got a feelin' that something ain't right

I'm so scared in case I fail in my lines of punch
And I'm wonderin' how I'll get rid o' this ketchup stain from lunch
Clowns to left of me, Republicans to the right
Here am I stuck in Iraq with you

Yes, I'm stuck in the middle of Iraq with you
And I'm wonderin' what it is I should do
It's so hard to keep this smile from my face
Losin' control, I'm all over the place
Clowns to left of me, Republi-jokers to the right
Here am I stuck in Iraq with you

Well, we started off with nothing
And we're proud we're self-made men
And our enemies they all come a crawling
Slap knife in our backs and say
Please, please

Well, I'm stuck in the middle of Iraq with you
And I'm wonderin' what it is we should do
Is it cool to go piss on the floor?
Cut and run doesn't seem to work anymore
Clowns to left of me, Republicans to the right
Here am I stuck in the middle of Iraq with you

Well, we started off with nothing
And we're proud that we're self-made heroes
And our friends they all come on like squirrels
Slap us on the back and say
Please, mister please (vote for me)

Well, I don't know why I came here tonight
I got a feelin' that something ain't right
I'm so scared in case I fall off this podium
And I'm wonderin' how I'll get away with my bombastic tea-todiums
Clowns to left of me, Publicators to the right
Here am I stuck in the middle with you
Here I am stuck in Iraq with you
Yes, I'm stuck in the middle with you
Stuck in Iraq with you

(Yes I apologize and know we're all "Plenty Smart".)

(We were "Plenty Smart" before we got "Good 'n Dumb".)

(We voted for Fear before we cut and ran away from it.)

(Remember me in 2008)

(I'll be runnin for head of state)

(And for sure we'll still be stuck on that date)

(Stuck in Iraq with you, stuck in the middle of nothing new)

music sampler

you tube

Stake the Course

2006-10-23T08:32:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween.

Do not cut and run,
Until you see the Whites of their Orange Alert Eyes.
Stake your Course, oh you skeleton bones.
Prepare for the October Surprise.
The Only thing we have to fear is our fears and moans,
and .. our remorses.
Yes we will always have our lizard head bosses.
So Spike another Stake onto our Courses (corpses?).
Don't Tread on the Mosses.
Happy Halloween.

Mushroom Monday -- October Surprise

2006-10-09T01:39:00.000-07:00

Who's Your Miss-Leader now?

Ask not

2006-10-09T01:26:00.000-07:00

Ask NOT what you can do for your congress person

...

Ask what your Congress person can do for your children.

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter (Intermission 12a)

2006-06-25T10:40:00.000-07:00

FRONT LINE ON A FLATTENING EARTH

Every once in an epoch, Falt-Earth Friedman (NY Times editor) surprises us with an introspective analysis worthy of notice. Rather than being the usual apologist for the US President and for the American way of non-negotiable life, Tom the Tome takes us on a panoramic plummet down to Peru in this weekend's editorial, to visit the receding glaciers of Machu Piccu. He charms us into the mindset of a Peruvian corn farmer whose wilting crop worsens with each year's lessening of glacial run off. Tom even goes so far as to challenge the wisdoms of the Adam Smith religion by noting that receding water levels and shrinking crop outputs will force Peru to drill for and export more oil, thus hastening its own demise due to Global Warming.

Yes, once again the Invisible Hand guides us to the most "efficient" utilization of our depleting resources. Rest In Peace, oh you humanity.

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter (Chapt 11)

2006-06-23T21:12:00.000-07:00

The sky blooms into wide open blue glory as Hero finds himself soaring with a supportive flock of like minded friends.

This is where eagles hang. No one cuts and runs. Heroes do not flinch and flee. Heroes remain loyal to the cause. Stay the course. Stick to the plan. Remain on message.

And what is the message?

Hero pauses for a listen.

They are all murmurring the same lines of prayer that he had learned so well in Edge-occasion school. It can't be wrong if they all say it is right. Can it?

The murmur of the flying crowd continues.

"The Market shall provide." "The Market shall provide." "The Market shall provide." "The Market shall provide."

"Progress is perpetual." "Progress is perpetual." "Progress is perpetual."

"Technology is our savior." "Technology is our savior." "Technology is our savior." "Technology is our savior." "Technology is our savior."

The Smith is Great.

Blessed is the Smith.

His will be done.

Here on Reality Earth as it is in Fantasy Heaven.

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter (Chapt 10)

2006-06-20T08:37:00.000-07:00

Hero finds himself tumbling down a tube; a Tunnel of Visions, or a TV for short.

Along the horizontal scan line, he spies a black monolith emerging from the dusts of time. "Thus Spake Zarathustra," it says to him in flashdance bursts. "The Enlightened Millenium is upon us." Hero stares at the flashing monolith in awe. His bird brain binds to the monolith's blinding lights. His herd-again ears hang onto every captivating tone within its cacophony of remixed messages. "We shall reveal for you a most wonderous secret," it promises, "on the other side of the break."

Hero sees the monolith growing and expanding, becoming a black streak spreading itself from farm to field in a relentless chase after its own tail.

Busy bee dots swarm up to cover the enlarging black tarp. Their wheels spin furiously in a stampede like rush towards the promised land: Extopia. Gushers of Juice snake behind the dots, feeding them with life and motion, feeding the black tarp with a darkish glue that holds its gravelous rocks together. The tarp advances from mall to mall and from Sears to shining Sears.

"T'is the Trail to Eden," he murmurs. "The Invisible Hand guides our growth and guides us to an inevitable array of prosperous futures. The Markets provide us, each with his wants, each according his ability to pay. Our Technology delivers. We are negotiating our way smartly along these routes and asserting our dominion over everything, even over Mother Nature! Ours will be the glory. Blessed is the Smith."

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter (Chapt 9)

2006-06-10T00:45:00.000-07:00

Heavens, No ! Mrs. Robinson.

Hero the Graduate confronts the realities of SUV-Irbia.

"One word:" buds in a gray-hair
tea toadler,
"Global-Ismynation."

Hero knows not what to say.

Cock a doodle do, Mrs. Robinson?

Here he stands in the confusion of Sprawl-Mart Land with hardly a grasp on the spin and balance of the place. Media attacks come from everywhere. Buy this. Shop that. Get more. Get more. Gitt mo. Help!

All his Edge-OK-shin dissolves into a diffuse background beat in the face of this on-the-edge occasion. His professors had not prepared Hero for the onslaught of the Madison Avenue and K-Street mind benders. Hero's chicken brain takes over control in this moment of fright, fear and confusion. Save us, it says. We must continue. We must persevere. Our preciousness must go on. Grab for the brass ring. Become one with Subversia. Hero faints.

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter (Chapt 8)

2006-06-03T15:52:00.000-07:00

Graduation.

Hurray. Free at last. Free at last.

Hero has his mortar board and his certificate of Edge-OK-shin.

He is ready to tackle the "real world".

He has been duly trained in understanding what is "real" outside the walls of alma matta and what is superficial facade.

"The Invisible Hand shall guide you," assured his professors, "to engage in that are endeavorsbest both for you and for society."

Hero amazes even himself with his ability to spout the speak of the Psycho-nomic Pundits. "The gain in Spain," he repeats, "falls mainly on the vain." Absolutely brilliant.

"The Market provides."

"Ask not what the markets will do to you, ask what you can do for the markets."

"I pledge allegiance to the Invisible Hand and to the system for which it stands, one world, under Smith, indivisble, with free will and tradable options for all."

Hero marches boldly forward, towards the inmate release ramp, confident that he is armed with all the correctionalized thoughts of Chairman Smith. Fogland here I come!

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter (Chapt 7)

2006-05-27T10:42:00.000-07:00

" E a c h
m e m b e r
special
-izes
in
one area of expertise, becoming brighter and better in that one endeavor while growing ignorant about everything else," crows the teacher in delight.

Hero has a hard time understanding the "sound logic".

He dares not ask a question though. His beady bird eyes focus on the wide open spaces around each "peak of excellence".

"It is unimportant," the instructor inserts, "that each member is dumb in almost everything else because collectively our society is brilliant. Just add up all the bell curves."

Learning economics is going to be hard hard work for Hero. He still does not get the concept: Wealth from Tunnel Visions? Maybe it works for lemmings. How can it work for a c o mplex society that plans to soar to new heights? Won't certain worrisome things slip between the cracks?

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter (Chapt 6)

2006-05-20T15:12:00.000-07:00

In a blink
of a
bird's
eye,
Hero finds himself caged

in a Thought
Correct- ional
Facility.

"You have free will," booms a voice from the front. "Ours is a free market where all can compete fairly and freely in pursuit of their life, liberty and happiness."

"But before you are loosed on society, we must make sure you understand the rules. Our only text is 'Wealth of Tunnel Visions' by Adam Smith. It will be your Bible. We do not mix religion with state affairs. However, by the time we are done with you, you will believe unquestionably in an 'Invisible Hand'. The Hand knows all and does good for all who worship it."

"Let us begin. Open your book to Chapter 1, Supply and Demand in an ideal marketplace ..."

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter (Chapt 5)

2006-05-20T09:48:00.000-07:00

With
Corny
Porcu
-popia
reading
materials in hand, Hero continues deeper into the territory of Fog Land.

Without warning, a member of the Right-Stuff Thought Tanking Brigade emerges from the fog and stops Hero right in his tracks.

"Our mission is to correctionalize the thinking of all in Fog Land so that they all think the Right way," proclaims the headhardenned driver of the machine.

"We will test your thinking to make sure you have proper econo-minded thoughts framed in your head before we let you "pass", graduate, and move on with your journey," continues the controller of the Thought Tanking apparatus. "It's called an Edge-you-K-shun."

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter (Chapt 4)

2006-05-07T08:33:00.000-07:00

As he
reaches
the edge
of Fog Land,
our Myopic Hero
finally starts to under
-stand
why they
call it
Fog Land.
It is shrouded
in a low lying fog.
Here, everyone has a vision problem. They cannot see far up along the road ahead. They cannot see the extent of the precious Tree of the Life Juice. It's just guess work.

"You must be a new guest worker," opines a suspicous looking and yet smile happy stranger.
"How rude of me. Sorry. Welcome. My name is Corny Porcupian. Welcome to my home country. Welcome to Fog Land. Here everything is bea-u-tiful. No? The Tree she is bea-u-tiful. Our future, it is bea-u-tiful. We have always had acces to The Prize, to our precious Juice of Life, and it will go on for ... well, basically forever. Think of it as a Bottomless Well."

Hero is stunned.
As far out as his myopic powers let him see, a sea of ladders stretch across the visible ground, each rigged to go high up into the dense fog, to access another part of the unseen tree.

Everything he had imagined was wrong. The natives had not surveyed the full scope of the juice-giving tree in detail. Instead they climbed up their rigs wherever they could, and if lucky, they brought down all they could grab from a low-lying branch.

"What happens when the low lying branches start to run down?" Hero asks.

"Oh that will never happen," quips Corny Porcupian. "Gloomers and doomers have been predicting that we will run out of Juice for hundreds of years. They have been wrong every time and they will continue to be wrong. Malthus was wrong. The famines never came because technology saved the day. Hubbert (a Juice oriented gloomer) will also be wrong. Technology will come through as it always does and help us to extract ever greater amounts of Juice from the Tree practically forever.

Hero says nothing. He thinks to himself, "Why is this cornucopian grinning fool all so eager to meet me at the frontier edge of Fog Land and bend me towards the cheerful view of life? Every bird brain knows that no tree climbs to the sky and beyond. Why is Corny Porcupian so yearning to give me the false impression that the Tree is without limit and that the juice will flow forever? Who pays him to do this? What is their goal?"

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter (Chapt 3)

2006-05-05T21:52:00.000-07:00

No doubt,

it must be

like this,

He imagined.

With only this one Tree of the Life Juice available, the folk who have dominion over the tree must have taken extreme measures of care and planning.

They must have scoped out the full limits of the tree. There would be only so many branches and only so much removable fruit on each branch.

They would take carefully from the tree only after having fully justified the depletion of this wonderous resource. Surely they would not be like drunken madmen and grab heedlessly everything they could get their hands on without nary a care for what happens when it is all gone.

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter (Chapt 2)

2006-04-30T21:23:00.000-07:00

Nearsighted as he might be, our Myopic Hero was unfazed.

He committed all his resources to a journey that would take him to the Land of the Fog, to find the mythical Tree of the Life Juice.

As he walked, he noticed the geological formations below his web-toed feet.

Mother Nature, it seems had followed a strange pattern. There were rocks of all sizes, large and small. However, the largest of the large never seemed to exceed a certain size. And for every large there were many more smalls.

Why even a bird brain could understand that once all the largest marbles had been removed from the pool there would only remain the smaller of the geological formations. And once the the bigger of those remainders were removed, there would only remain the smaller of what Mother Nature had created.

It was a simple truth. He was still a long way off from the crazed frenzy of Fog Land. This basic concept seemed clear as a desert oasis to our intrepid voyager. Soon, however, he would forget himself as he fell into the drunken world of the Life Juice.

Travels of the Myopic Juice Hunter

2006-04-29T20:17:00.000-07:00

While

wandering

in the

wilderness,

our Myopic Hero

stumbles upon a stranger with wonderous tales. He speaks of an elixir that gives one ever lasting power. It is called the Juice of Life. It comes in flavors, sweet and sour. Those who posses it attain great powers, abilities to transport almost instantly to far away places, abilities to work large farms with a single hand, in short to enjoy a life style that soon becomes non-negotaible.

But where to find this wonderous juice, asks our short of vision voyager.

A tree, answers the wise stranger.
It roots in the Land of the Fog. There is only one such tree and all who know of it seek it out to satiate their ever growing thirst.

Pushed & Pulled into the Fib Pit Once Again

2006-04-26T18:08:00.000-07:00

They mis-led us about their Cause 'a Bellie (reason for war) the last time around. Remember their WMD Intelli-flops and flips? Remember their We'll-be-met-with Showers-of-Flowers fibs? Remember Colin Powell's UN show & tell? Remember Valerie Plame? Remember Niger Yellowcake?

Now they deceive us again.

This time their deceptions and diversions spin about our so-called "Pain o' the Pump".

They suggest a conspiracy of greedy oil giants. They point to evil foreigners who withhold the goodies from us or take what is rightfully ours.

They play the partisan pull-me push-you game. All to keep you away from knowing what is really happening on the global scale. Global production is falling behind. Global demand is leaping ahead. --Production will never catch up with Demand again. We are rolling over the peak and falling into the downhill abyss.

The politicians are forever suckering us deeper into the tar pits with misdirects and misleads.

Learn the deeper truth here at The Oil Drum

Seeing is Believing

2006-04-24T20:29:00.000-07:00

Seeing
is
believing.

To control the ape brain,

One needs to control what it sees.

Hide the unpleasant pictures.

Flash the enobling ones.

Nobility is, as nobility shows itself.

Do not gaze on the image below.
It is a hoax.
Fabricated by unpatriotic traitors.
By those
who refuse to see
that freedom is on the march.
Them who did not cut and run,
now lay proud, free and noble.
Dare not criticize them who made the ultimate sacrifice,
or those who gave them the opportunity to do so.

Sad is when you make me look Bad

2006-04-19T08:21:00.000-07:00

See my minion smile.

His resignation is now
on file.

He failed to make me look good.

So leave he must for sake of nationhood.

I am the Decider man.

In other words, doing the hard decisions as best I can.

These are hard hard times.

Thank Higher'd Father for the guy that writes my rhymes.

Make Me Look Good

2006-04-15T16:31:00.000-07:00

Image is Position in our Pyramid Scheme Society.

At every station up along the Triangles of Power there stands a Lord who bades his or her minions to make the Leader Look Good, or else.

Bad news does not shine a politically proper kind of spotlight in the Leader's throne room.

Bad news, real as it may be, is to be buried, denied and denegrated.

Cornucopian news, false as it might be, is to be blared with bubbly enthusiasm from every bullhorn in the Leader's realm.

"Make me look good" is all that counts.

So what if a catastrophe of epic proportions threatens the Kingdom? So what if the coffers are spent beyond all measure of rational exuberance? So what if the armies are meeting with defeat after defeat? So what if the economy is faltering? So what if the liquid of power is running dry? Ours is not to question. Ours is not to be disloyal. Ours is to bow in awe of that shining image on the top of the Hill.

We sure know how to bow to false but authoritative images.

Chicken Little Bumps into Mr. Ostrich Head

2006-04-08T09:36:00.000-07:00

The concept of Chicken Little (CL) confronting Mr. Ostrich Head (MOH) comes from Anthropik here

Not discussed is the risk v. reward equation. Let's say there are equal chances that CL and MOH are right. If MOH is right and we panic & spend money trying to fix a problem that is not there, well then we are out of that amount of money. If CL is right and we DON'T panic & spend money trying to fix the problem, then we pay the price of the sky falling on our head. Which is worse?

Three Amigos Ride Again

2006-04-01T09:39:00.001-08:00

Legend has it that a great civilization once existed where only these ruins remain.

The Spiral of Life

2006-03-25T22:57:00.000-08:00

In the Beginning,

There was Fire.

And the Humans saw it as Good.

Their civilization grew and spiraled outwards.

Overtaking forest and brush.

And on the second Day they discovered Coal.

The Humans saw that it was better.

On the Third Day they found oil.

Their numbers spiraled to astronomical numbers.

3 Billion, 6 Billion, 12 ... to the moon and beyond.

And then, on the Fourth Day, the Oil began petering out.

There came onto them a prophet of salvation from the North

Speaking of wonderous sands.

LaLa #3--Best Musical

2006-03-04T13:08:00.000-08:00

To tune of: Ghostbusters (1984)

Turn the Beat on ON (here real.player)

(Moodsetter...)

Doh doh duh, Do,
Dubya, Dubya; Boo!

Republic-busters…

If there's somethin' strange in your GLOBAL hood
Who ya gonna call?
...Republic-busters!!!

If it's somethin' crony an' it don't look good
Who ya gonna call?
...Republo-busters !!!

(Doh duh do Do,
Dubya, Dubya Boo!)

I ain't afraid a no Republi-cyst
I ain't no Republi-poligist

If you got mixed messages spinnin' thru your head
Who's gonna be fair?
... Republi-busters !!!

An' Invisible Hand sleepin' in your bed
Oh! Who can ya tell?
Republi-busters!!

(Doh doh duh dah Do,
Dubya, Dubya Dubya, Boo!)

I ain't afraid a no Republi-cyst
I ain't afraid a no Republo-mist

Who ya gonna tell?
(republi-busters)

If you're all alone, pick up the phone
An call .... (republi-busters)

I ain't no Misagno-NIST
Ooh I hear they like the girls
I ain't afraid a no Republi-pissed
Yeah Yeah Yeah

(Doh duh Do,
Dubya, Dubya Boo!)

Who you gonna call? (republi-busters)
Mm…if you have republo-problems mister
Freaky Republi-bribe or corruption problems sister
You better call .... Republi-busters!!!

Ow wooo!!!

(clink clang jail door bang
catch 'em, jail 'em, dang)

Bustin' makes me feel good ...mmm
Oh yeah

(Doh duh Do,
Dubya, Dubya Boo!)

I ain't afraid a no Republi-cyst
I ain't afraid a no Republo-fear-an-mist

Don't get caught alone,
oh no
… republi-busters!

When they comes through your door
Unless you just want more ...
I think you better call ... republi-busters
Ooh... who you gonna trust? (republi-busters)
Who gonna do your bust? (republi-busters)
Ah, I think you better call (republi-busters)
I can't hear you…
Who you gonna call? (republi-busters)
Louder! (republi-busters)
Who can you call? (republi-busters)
Who do you tell? ...republi-busters …
How ya gonna rid that smell? (repeat through fade)

LaLa #2: BrokeFEMA Mountain Award

2006-03-03T10:40:00.000-08:00

A bunch of good'ole boys take their fishing-for-answers gear up to the situation room.

They claim they was in there all that time fishing for answers.

They weren't fishin' for right answers. They were coddling and cronying up with each other. They were incompententating with each other. It's disgusting what they was doing.

The Lemming Appreciation of Leadership Award (LaLa #2) in the category of "leadership unbecoming" goes to Brownie, Bushie and Cherrytoffy for conduct above and beyond BrokeFEMA Mountain. Unfortunately they cannot accept the award tonight because they're at it again. Here to recieve the award on their behalf is Scott McLietellin. Come on up Scott and get your come up'ins.

LaLa Traitor-to-the-Course Award

2006-02-27T08:53:00.000-08:00

Nominations are coming in for the LaLa's.

(Lemming Appreciation of Leadership Awards)

This category is for anti-leadership, for not staying the course.

To understand why George Clooney deserves it, go here

Their Tongues Were Wailing God

2006-02-25T11:24:00.000-08:00

In our prosperous lemming holes there are many who wail the name of God.

You humans may find kinship with some of our worshipping brothers.

Take for example those of our lemm-folk who worship Alla-Lemm AchBear. They say that the God inside their mind is the one and only possible God. There can be no other. All lemmings must obey his word or perish. The name and image of his holy prophet, Moe-had-Lemm must never be disrespected. If they sense anything that smells of disrespect, they go into a wild rage, burning things and caving in other lemming's tunnels. It is the will of their God.

Another faction of our Lemming Brotherhood worships Jee-Lemm Christopher and claim that he, rather than Moe-had-Lemm is the true prophet of God. The Jee-Lemm worshippers have a God who is shaped differently from the one and singular Alla-Lemm AchBear. The Jee-Lemm God has three heads. His follwers call the triune heads: The Paternal, The Offspring and The Holy Spirit. Jee-Lemm was the Offspring. You can't see or touch The Holy Spirit. You just got to believe.

Sometimes the Jee-Lemm worshippers go on "Holy" Crusades against the followers of Alla-Lemm AchBear. Sometimes the followers of Moe-had-Lemm go on "Holy" Jihads against the worshippers of Jee-Lemm. As they go about killing each other and destroying the world, their tongues wail the name of God.

Pondering the Plundering of the Ports

2006-02-23T12:34:00.000-08:00

He who brought you Atta-Boy Brownie once again asks you to trust him by looking deep into his compassion-filled blues eyes.

He knows goodness when he sees it.

He knows that it is "GOOD" to shut American and British companies out from servicing "our" ports.

He knows that it is "GOOD" to invite into the hen house the Islamo-foxes who swear there is no God but their God and they will kill us if we do not unconditionally accept Allah (blessed be his name).

He knows that it is "GOOD" to ponder plentifully the plundering of our ports.

In Bush we trust. All others pay homage to his holy name. Amen.

Feathery Friends

2006-02-15T02:53:00.000-08:00

Birds of a same feather, it is said, flock together.

Some birds meet at the watering hole.

We have a Grand Old Party Time.

Ya all drop down now. Hear?

"Stay the Course" LaLa --Part II

2006-02-11T02:02:00.000-08:00

In our history-wide search for

The Lemming Idol,

for the "Stay the Course" leader
who most deserves the coveted prize, namely,
the Lemming Appreciation o' Leadership Award
(the LaLa), we came upon a fundamental truth:
The Lead to the Ledge is not a function of the "Who",
but rather of the Times and of the Missed Turns along the Road of History.

Almost all Leaders are "Stay the Course" ones.

It is those who by ill chance, fall into the lead just as the course of history hits an inflection point, who become acursed.
It is they who must bear the "Mark of Cain", the "blame" for having been a bad leader in a time of "crisis", when in truth almost all leaders would have done the same.

It was not Cain's fault that he saw not the shift
away from a man-powered vegeterian life style
(being a tiller of the soil, a life style he considered "non-negotiable")
to an alternate life style that his rancher brother, Abel, was adopting.

No wonder that Cain became enraged with jealousy when the animal-powered, rancher life-style (sheep herding) outdid the old ways of the soil tiller. Cain had missed an inflection point in the marketplace. He lashed out in the only way he knew how. He liquidated some of his human assets. And for that he was punished with the fickle pointing finger of "blame", with the Mark of Cain forever imprinted as his exclusive trademark.

(The real Abel, by the way did not disappear. He came out of bankruptcy under a new trade name, Seth. The Sethians flourished. They domesticated yet more of the beasts beyond just the sheep. They learned to work with copper and iron. They yoked the oxen and bade them to do all manner of man's work. In time, the beasts of burden were replaced by a petro-powered progeny that made the children of Cain, Abel and Seth more "productive" than they had ever been before. They felt as if they had gained "dominion" over the earth and the sky. Dazzled by their own brilliance, by the unbounded power of an Abel human mind, they were ready to rocket on to new conquests. They had lost sight of where all the energy had come from. Their self-esteeming inner light blinded them from seeing the next inflection point (the "Peak") a coming their way. It deluded them into belieivng that the marketplace, the worship of a Smithian God, will always provide. None was his brother's keeper and each clawed and tunneled only for his own self gain. But that is a story for another day.)

It is only the rare and brilliant leader who realizes we are at a point of inflection in the affairs of things and who can turn the herd and guide them away from the cliff.

And what, we ask you, is the reward of such a leader? The herd barely notices. Fame goes to those who lead the glorious charge over the ledge, to Pearl Harbor and beyond. Glory comes to those who edge the millions to their deaths under the guise of an "unavoidable" war against an "evil" enemy, or a "catastrophic" turn of events that no one could have foreseen, not even Cassandra.

Lemming Leadership Award Categories

2006-02-10T07:08:00.000-08:00

Tis the season to hand out awards.

The humans worship their Great Pretenders (a.k.a. "actors"). Soon they will be passing out golden ape statues (a.k.a. "Oscars") to each other for having fooled themselves into believing that something fake (staged) is actually real. It is the ultimate achievement of the human brain to celebrate fakery, delusion and denial in such magnificent style. We lemmings applaud them.

Not to be out done, we hand out Lemming Appreciation of Leadership Awards.

The Golden Rodent statue is not passed out on whim or whip of a tail. Each category deserves great consideration before we acknowledge a ledge mate who has led the charge for glory and a new dawn (or for a cliff down or a river drown).

Categories for LALA's (Lemming Appreciation o' Leadership Awards) are many. Most coveted is the STC-LALA: the "Stay The Course"-Lemming Appreciation o' Leadership Award.

We lemmings are very egalaterian. Any human, animal or extra-terrestrial, who led a large portion of his/her species toward the edge or beyond can qualify for a "Stay the Course" LALA. There are so many worthy candidates to choose from, past, present and fictional.

Nominations are now open and subdivided among a number of important categories: (1) Politicians, (2) Cult Leaders, (3) Biblical Figures, (4) Business Leaders (5) Entertainment Leaders, and (6) TBD: To Be Determined

Evolution of the Herd / Mob Instinct

2006-02-06T06:19:00.000-08:00

There was a time when the human species was small in population and faced attack from predatory animals.

Evolution then favored those who possesed genes that fostered the Herd / Mob instinct.

The weak and isolated apes would gather into a frenzied mob and hurl stones at the attacking carnivore.

Had each primate engaged in rational thought about danger to the self, the mob would have never formed. Evolution found a way to reward those whose genes allowed mob mentality to override rational thought.

That was then. This is now.

We see in the picture to the right, a mob of humans attacking Egyptian police officials because a ferry sank and loved ones were lost in February 2006. The mob attack will not bring the loved ones back. The mob attack will not drive away predatory carnivores.

And yet it is there. Deeply etched into the makeup of the human critters.

Genes that once worked to preserve the species now drive it over the edge.

Wowo Wee ! Only Lemmies Stampee-d

2006-02-04T10:16:00.000-08:00

According to an updated Forbes report, at least 73 of the human creatures have been counted as dead.

It was the desire for private wealth, for winnning the WOWwo WEE lottery that drove them into the maddening frenzy.

Meanwhile, in another story relating to human over population, the chase for survival and for earning a living in this mad, mad world, the British Telegraph reports over 1000 human critters killed in mass drowning incident. We Lemmings empathize with you humans. Many of us die in stampedes, mass drownings and other over-the-ledge runs for survival's sake. I guess we share many attributes, no?

Chronicles of Nary-a-Sheehania

2006-02-03T05:17:00.000-08:00

The children feel safe when they know that those with courage to stand up for truth and justice are on board.

And so it came to be on the eve of the Emperor's State of the Empire Speech that the Robed Ward entered the magical chamber to join forces with the Lion Defender of Ly'in and Spy'in and to do battle against the White Witch of Sheehania.

The Witch of Sheehania was always bitching about her lost boy. She failed to see the magic of Christmas and of the White Washing. Her T-Shirt was dark and carried a gruesome number: 2,245, the number of the beast.

Our children need to be protected from such horrid realities. So the Lion sent his forces of good up into the Galleries to remove the thou-protest'ith too much Witch from the festivities.

Praised be the Lord and the Lion. The Emperor's speech came to be delivered without a hint of the Witch's Warnings. The children went to sleep happy and safe that night.

And the Generals proudly wore their We-Don't-Symbolize-Anything Costumes. All in all, it was alovely evening.

She wore an Incy Binci, Anti-War Bikini to the President's Ball Last Night

2006-02-01T04:58:00.000-08:00

They arrested Cinderella Sheehan for trying to wear a pinko anti-war T-shirt under her conservative debutant's costume while attending the President's Oil Barrons' Banquet last night by invitation.

On first blush, that sounds fair and balanced. After all, who is she to wear an outfit that sends a policy-challenging message for all the "common people" to see? (Big deal that her son died for the "Noble Cause".)

On the other hand, there were lots of other folk at the Bush SOTUS Banquet wearing all kinds of funny, policy-supporting costumes. There were soldiers garnished in hawkish Army and Navy costumes. There were Supreme Court judges robed in fake, fair and balanced togas. It was just Cinderella's obtrusive fashion message that was adjudged out of style. Maybe it was Cinderella's slippers? Perhaps they were magical glass ones that out-shined the Emperor's Robes?

Sheehan story with photos here

Regaining Our Reign

2006-01-28T03:10:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, We the People, forget who owns the powers and gave "limited" amounts, with checks, balances and right of reclamation to them who think they can re-attain "Nobility" by threat of terror, by proclamation of "inherent" powers, or by other means of mental manipulation and evasion.

State of the Neo-Con Fusion State

2006-01-26T04:37:00.000-08:00

I appreciate ya all came here ta hear talk bout the state of our Union. I looked inta the eyes of our Union and Ah found goodness there. So it's good. It's all good. Those of ya that got more improtant things ta do now, like catching the latest Nascar race scores, well ya can get along now dogs cause I already told ya it's all good. I do this under my inherent and unitary powers as Commander and Chief of the Universe. So when I speak, ya know it's basically as good as God speakin ta ya all. I appreciate that you took time to listen and the Higher Father appreciates it too. Now I also appreciate that some of you might not fully appreciate it when I tell you everything is good. Some of you might have unpatriotic thoughts about our victory in Iraq. Some of you might have uncountryman-like thoughts about our handling of Katrina. Some of you might unconstitutionally question my picks for the Supreme Court. Sure we have had some tough times, but the State of our Union is getting better all the time. These are opportunities and I aim to take advantage, to spend my political capital on these opportunities. I aim to challenge TERROR-IZM wherever it rears it's ugly head. Behind you. See? I made you look. Deep in your heart of hearts you know the fear lurks there. Karl told me to take advantage of your most primitive fears and I appreciate what Karl says. I see TERROR-IZM. I see TERROR-IZM everywhere. Seeing TERROR-IZM everywhere is good fur ya. It sharpens the mind and dulls the wit. We've got to be united and strong in our world wide fight aginst all this TERROR-IZM. We've got to have a coalition of the willing and the patriotic to stand up to all this TERROR-IZM. We are the YOU-KNIGHTED STATES of AM-erica and we will not be pushed around. We will find TERROR-IZM wherever we choose to find it and we will preemptivley strike out against the TERROR-IZM over there so we don't have to fight it over here. All this is logic pure and simple. I appreciate that some of ya think yar intellectuals. Some of ya think yar smarter than me. John Kerry thought he was smarter than me. But he hadn't played Cowboys and Intellectual Heads against me. He didn't realize that he was going to vote for me after he thought he voted against me. He should of talked to my friends at Diebold. They would of told him. So you see my friends. The Sate of Union is good. Good Night and God Bless (me).

Born to be What you are

2006-01-22T15:03:00.000-08:00

We blame others for being what they are.

But did they have a choice?

Did they choose to be what they are or was most of it preordained by the birth lottery? Did they pick their parents? Did they pick the culture they would be brought up in? Did they pick the religion they would follow? Did they pick the history that surrounds them? Did they pick the framework in which they see the world?

So why do we blame them (and not ourselves)? Why do we fail to understand that they are victims of their circumstances much as we are of our own?

Their Eyes Glazed Over

2006-01-08T08:26:00.000-08:00

Course of course this web blog is kind of a joke. We pretend to be lemmings, intelligent lemming scientists who study the human creatures.

Those humans remind us of us. After all, they are mammals with herd instincts just like our own. They run around under the illusion that they are "intelligent". They "burrow" themselves into a hole in order to build solid communities of prosperity. They overbreed, go crazy, and start a stampede ....

How did this investigation into the lemming-human connection start?

Someone on one of the peak oil sites wrote of their attempt to communicate with fellow creatures about Peak Oil

"Their eyes glazed over," is the way that poster explained it. That got me started. Why? Why do their eyes glaze over? That is one of the questions this web blog explores.

Lemmings are we.

Loosening the Manacles of Manic Manipulation

2006-01-01T07:34:00.000-08:00

On the Morning after "Nutcracker" Magic, the eye blinks open wondering if it was merely a dream, or more so, a well scripted stage show whose splendor now shatters like brittle ice crystals struck by a rising day's sun.

Some say America is Awakening.

The Shock and Awe of 9/11 is gone.

Fear of Fear has become just a tiresome Clockwork of so many Codes Orange and Red rather than a dazzling rainbow of post-storm hallucinations.

The bullhorn pulpit is gone.

A spotlight shines instead on missions promised but not accomplished.

So many billions gone and nothing to show for it.

America realizes she had been in the grips of a Manic Manipulator.

Now the seductive shackles of blind faith in a resolute leader come undone. We ask ourselves. "What have we wrought? Have we become the Destroyer of World?"

Christmissed Messages

2005-12-26T09:32:00.000-08:00

The GOSPEL of GEORGE:

Preemptively do onto thy neighbors
Before they doo ith a thing onto you

Forgive them oh Higher Father
For they know not what I do.
(But I know what they do,
For I spy'eth secretly upon them.
Executive privilege you know,
Is only for us executively privileged.)

Let him who is stoned
Cast the first bunker buster

The meek and the weak
Shall inherit their own back cheek
(IOW, the poor always get sh*t)

Give onto Caesar,
That which is Caesar's.
Give onto me,
That which thou gave'th to Caesar.
For we are the ownership society,
And to us belong'eth dominion over the whole of the Earth.

Blessed are the PeaceMakers,
For they carry one heck of a payload.

Festival of the Miraculous Oil

2005-12-25T06:20:00.000-08:00

Although often mis-labeled as the "Festival of Lights"

The Jewish Holiday of Hanukkah is actually a Story about Oil

It lasted. It lasted way longer than it was supposed to.

But on the Eighth Octet, it was gone. There was no ninth inning miracle.

Let us pray for long lasting miracles.

Melly Lemmy XMAS

2005-12-25T06:03:00.000-08:00

Sermon from the Mouth

2005-12-18T04:59:00.000-08:00

Ask not, ... Whether I can spy on you.

Ask whether you can

spy more on each other
(For sake of Your country and Before "They" do it to you).
(Think spying is bad? Nah. Don't think, Just do it [hat tip])

It is a far far better place ...
I take you to
Than yee have ever known.

It is far far better
peace I bring to you
than you dare to RIP upon yourselves.

Succumb not to the checks and balancing of the books.
Fuzzy math shall be your undoing.

Trust only in me.
I am the salvation.

I take you from the valley of Terrorism,
And bring you to the Mountain top of National Security.

I take you from the edge of Rejectionism,
And bring you to the safe landing of Global Economy.

Though you walk in the despair of Unemployment and Defeatism,
You shall have no fear,
For the Noble Cause is your destiny.

Do not let yourself become marginalized
along the road kill sidelines of History.

Do not let yourself become damned
by the Sad Damn (Who's Osama-oops Insane) truth.

There is only one truth.
I am the truth.
I am the law.
I am the glory.
I am your victory.
I am the mission acomplished.

Yes, you are in the last throes
of any rational thought.
Though verily you continue to question.

Fear yes my mixed messages for they shall set free your minds
From their bonds of rationality,
From their love of life and compassion for family.
I am your family.
The Republican State is your family.
We are United, Unquestionable and Indivisible.
Our life style is non-negotiable.
Our way is the way of all mankind.
God bless and God keep
(me in power).
Good Night and Amen.

BULLY-ist

2005-12-16T08:21:00.000-08:00

Since

School- yard

daze

when he played with other Little Lemmin,

At the ole Element-Tree Institute
for young vermin,

George Jumpsoon was TERRIFIED

George was TERRIFIED of being called names.

He did not like it at all
when the head mistress called him a:

Say-damn-nist.

He did not like it at all
when the flat earth lemmlings called him a:

Rejection-NIST.

He did not like it at all
when the muscle boy called him a:

Girlie Lemm who cuts and runs like a coward.

George showed them all.
He joined the Ledge Edge Para-Jump Corps.
They practiced and practiced until their reaction
was a mindless matter of leader satisfaction.

When the Great Sitting Bush leader said "Geronimo !"
George was the first to Go.

No one called him names after that.
They simply honored his memory.

... everytime there was a veteran's day sale that is ....

Are you a RejectionNIST?

2005-12-14T20:39:00.000-08:00

Hard enough it is to know if you are a Commie-Neck Nay-Bob

But how to tell if you are a Rejection-NIST?

NIST, as you know, is the National Institute of Standard Science and Technology

(1) IF you think that Global Warming is a Liberal Plot to stop Free Markets from exercising their legal dominion over Oil and Coal THEN YOU SIR are a RejectionNIST

(2) IF you think that _________ THEN YOU SIR are a RejectionNIST

Purifying the Dens of Infidelity

2005-12-14T07:21:00.000-08:00

Islemm Allah is a simple, peaceful and humble lemming. He devoutly prays 5 times a day. He keeps himself clean. He wears white to prove his purity. He always stays away from temptuous she-lemms who seek to foul his immortal soul.

Recently it has been learned that infidels were spotted in the heartland of the faith. Islemm Allah has made a holy pledge to purify the dens of such infidelity.

Islemm Allah is a simple, peaceful and humble lemming. He devoutly prays 5 times a day. ...

Snatching Da Feet

2005-12-08T14:53:00.000-08:00

In the cold commercial bluster
of Christmas next,
the Lost Lamb a human,
Cindy Crawford She-hen,
wanders the Earth
still in search of the "Noble Cause".

Where is it Mr.my. President? she begs.
The "Noble (Santa) Cause"?

Why did my begotten son die?
Is there no longer a Jolly White Knight
in the Unblemished North Pole
for us to believe in?
Has our DC Camelot become a Bizarro-world Cabaret?

GW keeps the deep dark answer under bulge.

Cowards, you see, are the ones who "Cut and Run". They become "marginalized" from the herd.
Only them who are Patriots act with courage and fearlessness.
The fearless ones give their right foot and then some for "The Cause".
(Santa's Cause)
Fearless moms take their sons back with pride and honor.
Unquestioning pride if the son comes back with no feet.
Unquestioning pride if the son comes back just as a pair of feet.
That you see ......
Is how we pull victory, oh glorious, from the jaws of the feet.
Did I mix message that one wrong way around?
Thinking is hard hard work.
Presidents don't do dumb stuff like that.
We have minions to do the fuzzy fuzz work of thinking.
Maybe we pull da feet from the jaws of the victor?

No biggie. The answer lies not under the flag draped box.

It lies elsewhere.

Nobility is as Nobility does.

Nobility starts on third base
and always rounds the cut corners
to get to its owning owner's
Home Sweet Home base.

Be at Peace Oh ig Noble ones.

Eco-Nomy iz Bea-u-tiful, War und Terror Bea-u-tiful, Every-ting Be-a-you-tiful

2005-12-02T08:01:00.000-08:00

Vell-kommen, Bien-venue, Welcome!

Fremde, Etranger, Stranger.

Gluklich zu sehen, je suis enchante,

Happy to see you,

Bleibe, reste, stay.

Vill-kom-in, Bien-Venue, Welcome.

I'm Cabaret, au Cabaret, to Cabaret !

Leave you troubles outside!

So - life is disappointing?

Forget it!

We have no troubles here!

Here life is beautiful...

The girls are beautiful...

Even the orchestra is beautiful!

Outside it is winter.

But in here it's so hot.

Every night we have to battle with the girls to keep them from taking off all their clothings.

So don't go away.

Who knows? Tonight we may lose the battle!

We are here to serve you! And now presenting the Kit Kat Boys: Here they are! Boobby! Victor! Or is it Victor! and Bobby... You know, there's really only one way to tell the difference... I'll show you later. Hans (Oh Hans, go easy on the sauerkraut!) Herrman (You know what's funny about Herrman?) (There's nothing funny about Herrman!) And, finally, the toast og Mayfir, Fraulein Sally Bowles!

You have to understand the way I am, Mein Herr. A tiger is a tiger, not a lamb. Mein Herr. You'll never turn the vinegar to jam, Mein Herr. So I do... What I do... When I'm through... Then I'm through... And I'm through... Toodle-oo! Bye-Bye, Mein Lieber Herr. Farewell, mein Lieber Herr. It was a fine affair, But now it's over. And though I used to care, I need the open air. You're better off without me, Mein Herr.

Cunning Linguistic Politicking

2005-12-01T07:49:00.000-08:00

The mammal- ian brain is open to suggestive program- ming by Cunningly-Crafted Language, Lies and Ideaological Imagery.

No wonder then that the corp.-passionate president of the humans displays himself in a 100% supportive room of dark-colored shirts despite 70% opposition by the general herd.

No wonder that he casts a terrorizing shadow called "The Enemy" and then projects subtext shadows of non-existant, "Sad-damn-ists", "Reject-a-nists" and "TERRROR-ists".

Fear and uncertainty are fodder for the mix messaged brain. The drums of war beat loudly and yet the humans see not its approach.

They march again lockstep towards the ledge.

Follow the Rum-full One

2005-11-30T08:19:00.000-08:00

Donald likes to drink his own rum. We like him. He is so upbeat. We will follow him to the edge and beyond.

Shrine of the Incompetent Design

2005-11-27T13:38:00.000-08:00

Many a Lemming in our commu -nity have joined The Church of the Incom- petent Designer.

They see clues.

They see clues everywhere.

They see evidence of a Creator who is careless, callous, clumsy, childish and cruel, in short, incompetent.

Take our solar system for example. What kind of competent creator would leave debris between Mars and Jupiter so that large asteroids would smack into Earth every 600 million years or so and extinguish essentially all life on the planet? And having seen it happen once, what kind of competent creator would let it happen again and again? Clearly our solar system, if not the Universe, is the handy work of an Incompetent Designer.

"Running out of" Milk, Bread and Oil

2005-11-25T11:56:00.000-08:00

Four

Simple

Words:

"Running (1)

Out (2)

Of (3)"

"______" (4)

...

(You fill in the blank)

Got Milk? (a must see parody)

Got Bread? (French kind? Running out of money?)

Got Oil? (Vegetable, Mineral or Crude?)

Got a Rational Mind? (Liberal, Conservative, or Out of the Box?)

Got Water?

Got a Future?

...

The runner up to the prize, last word (Got what?) is so cliche that it almost puts one into a hypnotic trance. "Honey, we're running out of milk! Be a deer and run to the market for more, will you?"

Maybe it was "Bread" we were running out of, you know, the French kind you insist on finding in the pastry aisle of your supermarket next to the Let-Them-Eat-Cake bin.

Or maybe it was "Oil"? No difference. The market always provides. Supply and Demand. What ever kind do you need. What was it, mineral, vegetable or crude? Doesn't matter. It's in the oils, condiments and abiotics section. It's always there in full stock. Trust us. We, the mega-providers are here to serve you and take care of you. (Our selfish profit motives take a secondary back seat to what is best for you.) We are here to always give you what you need. No need to worry your pretty little brain. No need for Congressional oversight. It will always be here for you. Continue as always with your life. Stay the course!!!!

Hell, Lemmings do.

Exponential Thanksgiving

2005-11-21T10:35:00.000-08:00

Dear Lord,

...

We thank th ee for The Hockey Stick.

...

We thank thee for population growth.

...

We thank thee for ever-increasing demand for real estate.

We thank thee for ever-increasing demand for fuel.

We thank thee for dividing thy world into nobles and peasants

We thank thee for choosing us to be the noble "owners" of this "ownership society" and for giving us dominion over the non-owners.

We appreciate (with compound thanks) that ye hath provided us with multitudes of herd mentality masses to perform menial tasks for us and to buy fuel from us and to pay rent for the privilege of living on the real estate properties that we were born to possess.

We thank thee for having birthed us on third base so that we don't have to make "ultimate sacrifices".

We thank thee for having birthed us on third base so that we can afford those "thought tanking" minions (at the think tank insitutions) to help us keep the greater herd under control with use of framed manipulation of the mass thought process.

Amen.

...

Now let's invade that Turkey.

Cut and Run, Stage Right

2005-11-20T16:13:00.000-08:00

Some pictures speak for themselves.

What was that about "cowards who cut and run"?

Dem Dem dummies aren't the only ones who don't know which door to head fir.

Ledge Pledge Babbylon

2005-11-20T08:24:00.000-08:00

"Bully" comes only in Boy Color (supposedly).

"Bully" comes only in threatening threads of violence to be done (supposedly).

What does it mean to be "cut" from the herd?

Simply because you challenged the sound logic

of "Stay the Course"?

Simply because you would not adhere to your Man's Man Pledge

Of continuing with the Band of Boys over the Ledge?

...

...excertps from She-Lemm Jean's Bully Babble-ons:
"A Call from Colonel Danny Bupp ...
He asked me to send a message to Congress
"Stay the Course"
He also asked me to send
Congressman Murtha a message, that
Cowards Cut and run, Marines never do...
America and the rest of the World Want
Assurance from This Body
That We Will see This Through
....
[later]
My remarks were not directed at any member of the House
I did not intend to suggest
... that they apply most especially to the distinguished gentleman from Pennsylvania
I ask unanimous consent that my words be withdrawn
[Accordingly my bell is hereby "unrung"]

Advancing to the Edge

2005-11-19T19:50:00.000-08:00

George L. Jumpsoon
lives a bit up the road
from his neighbors,
the Flintstems and the Bumbleheads.

George thinks of himself as being
a bit more "evolved" than those
backroad rodents down the hill.

George is a science simpleton.
He thinks "evolved" means "advanced".
He thinks he whizzes around in a
"High Tech" vehicle, a transport means that tells everyone,
George has "arrived".
This is the Jumpsooner Generation.
Everyone is Globally Interconnected by our Flattened
Tunnels of ever expanding Prosperity.

No one told George his High Tech Vehicle rolls on four wheels.
Just like the older ones of his Neanderthal neighbors.
He is no better. He just thinks he is.
No one told George that "evolved" means he is a random freak of nature.

Pesty Price Noises

2005-11-19T09:17:00.000-08:00

Voles are Vocal.

We meet in our holes.

And make important noises.
Noises that increase the Prosperity
of our Civilized Labyrinths of Wealth.

See Barney and Betty-bye Bumblehead.
See them making price noises.
Betty wants to burrow more.
"The deeper we dig ourselves into a hole," she says, "the wealthier we will be."

The prices of holes in the ground
have always gone up.
No Lemming has lost out by staying the course.
Once you dig yourself into a quagmire, you keep digging.
That is the sense of the commons (common scents).
No one argues with common scents.

Buy it All Barney

2005-11-18T09:10:00.000-08:00

Fred Flintstem's friend is a gullible, lovable bumble head.

They call him Buy-it-All Barney.

He can't help himself.

He was programmed from birth for one, and one function only, compulsive consumption of all things advertised.

Buy-it-All believes The Markets will always provide.
They always have.
Cars, planes, trains, ...
Luxurious homes for the stars ....
All plasticized and rasterized ...
Where does it all come from? All this Prosperity?
Barney doesn't care. The Markets provide.

Intelligent Redesign of History

2005-11-17T08:21:00.000-08:00

A Story for

Li''ll Lemm -lings

Ta Learn From:

Brave Billy the Goat recalls a moment of

Courage and Decisiveness in his Life. It is important to never mis-rememberize what actually happened.

Brave Billy was doing some "hard hard" readin after having graduated with distinction from theNo-Prince-Left-Behind Program at the National Guard Academy for Noble-Cause Cousins & Cronies.

Suddenly from a leftist corner there appeared another with Bad Bad news. WTC7 had gone straight down even though no plane had hit it. What to do?

Billy pondered and pondered. Then he realized the kind folk that done put him in power were even dumber than he.

So after many minutes of sweat, anxiety and ponderin; Billy the Goat made a Decisive move. He got up and run.

The moral of the story, Little Lemmlings is this: We can always Intelligently Redesign History.

Knowing One's Place

2005-11-14T20:26:00.000-08:00

Willbee-mother FlintStem, or Wilma as she is better known at the Lemming Community Center, knows her place in Lemming Society.

The LemmLord Intelligently Designed her Body to be a Birther of little Lemmlings, to be a Nurturer of Family Values, and to be an Unwavering Lover of the Life Tribal.

After all, the Lemm Commandments command each "One" of us to "Be". And to "Continue" And to "Stay the Course" (Deviate not from thy Directed Direction).

And To Remain True To The Tribe .

Wilma lives her life accordingly and lets others do so also. Live and let live, she always says.

Element-Tree Education

2005-11-13T10:02:00.000-08:00

Fred FlintStem is a rock solid member of our Lemming Lodges.

He knows what he knows.

He knows what his five common senses prove to him to be the truths of this Universe.

Just as there are 5 common senses, there are 5 elements: Earth, Sky, Fire, Water and Trees. It is elementary. Every Element-Tree School graduate knows it. We hold these truths to be self evident.

The Earth, of course, is our home and source of mineral wealth.

The Sky is a pie-in-the-eye dream.

Of the last three, the most important are the Trees. Without trees there would be no Fire. Without trees, the rain Waters would flood our Labyrinths of Prosperity.

Fred heard rumors of a Terrifying "Peak Tree" Theory. Someone said we might soon start running low on trees. Fred scampered up to the top of his hole and perched himself on his hind feet. He looked. He listened. He smelled.

His trusty snout smelt the succulent odor of fresh vegetation. It was as powerful a signal as any Petro-age Humanoid might smell when whiffing in fresh vapors at an all night gasoline station. It was still all there. The "Peak" theory was another freak story. Fred's FlintStem brain assured him that the source of life, the source of our Prosperity, would be with us for a long time. No need to worry. No need to fret. Everything is Matada.

"Stay the Course" is what our Lemming leaders tell us.

Fred is a stick-to-it guy and proud of it. In the Lemming Army he learned the Core 4C's: Commitment, Consistency, Courage, and Cooperation. Even if it seemed that the ledge loomed near, a Lemming-Trooper stays the course. The herd stays on its path. We stand our ground. It's a philosophy that has never been wrong before.

Those who profess this "Peak" freak fright stuff are not using their 5 common senses that is for sure. Any Lemming can go up top and smell the forest. Nothing like the smell of fresh palm on a Sunday morning.

Dancing in our Dens

2005-11-06T08:52:00.000-08:00

Time too much has been spent
on the Human Animals and their Travails

One might fall into the
Illusion That "They" are the Center of the Universe.

Well known it is though,
Lemmings are the Center of the Universe.

We ruled the Earth. It was constructed for us.

The Intelligent Design of
Our Labyrinths of Prosperity
Prove the Point.

Happy Times are Here Again in the West Culture Digs
We prepare to give thanks for the Bounitful Harvest
of Consummmable Goods and Goodies
passed down to us from the "Invisible Claw".

Fred FlintStem and his neighbor Brainless Barney
are this day celebrating with their She-Lemms,
Will-be-mother and Bettie-bye,
the glorious coming of the Retail Splurge Season,

Merry Times are wished for All.
And to all a Merry Mindless Mortgage Engorgement Season!!!

Panic Dem Dummies

2005-11-01T08:41:00.000-08:00

Here at the A-sy-lum, I likes to play wit de other inmates.

I likes to kep em in a constant state of panic.

De utter day I freak'd em wit stories about how's I see terrorrrrists everywhere.

They gone wild. It gave me power. It gave me control capital to spend over dem.

Today I decided to play a new panic angle. My friend, Range Rover calls it panic politics. It's a hoot.

Speaking of hoot, We decided this one was from the birds. Ya all panic now. That there avionic influence-zooma is a coming. Rapture is coming. Yee hah. Get along you Panic-strucken Dem Dummies. Do my bidding oh minions of mine

Peaking Blood Clots

2005-10-31T13:24:00.000-08:00

Oil is to Modern Civilization, As blood is to the Human Body.

Both fluids serve as transports of energy to vital organs of the system.

Both fluids help to supply vital nutrients for sustaining "growth" and "repair".

Without sufficient flows, The system (Body or Civilization) "Collapses".

Does it makes sense to argue about the exact time and date of expected Collapse while the system is still alive but suffering from a chronic and increasing clogging of its pipelines?

Don't argue.

Rush in for Bypass Surgery.

Bypass use of Fossils. Switch to Renewable Energy Sources.

Economics 1-0-1

2005-10-26T16:41:00.000-07:00

When trouble is near, Protect your vital assets.

Minions of the Manipulative Minority

2005-10-24T07:09:00.000-07:00

Managing Empire is hard hard work.

It can be much too much for the privileged elite.

Luckily, there are many a minion available and eager to serve.

Why do the minions serve?

That is a complex question.

More importantly, how do the minions assure the collapse of their civilization?

That is a much simplar process to understand. The minions must deceive two groups, those above them and those below them.

The elite above must not come to suspect that something is going horribly wrong below.

The wretched peasants below must not come to suspect that something is going horribly wrong above.

Only then, can the minions survive, secured in their position on the pyramid, between the powerful elite above and the deluded masses below.

A Simple Pledge

2005-10-23T12:07:00.000-07:00

I pledge Allegiance to the "Wealth" Symbol ($$$$$$$$ $$$$$$$ $$$$$$) of the United Wealth-hoarding States of AdamSmithia;

And to the Republican Ideologies which they stand for, One Globalized-slave Nation under their required God, invisibly-handed, with Liberty and Justice for All the Haves and Have-More's.

And in case you forgot, the obsolete original:

I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands , one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.