Even if you're a Political RedMeatist & BlueStater, which pogblog clearly also is, trust me enough to try this post. It's giga-politics, as it were. And it underlies why things are so deeply disturbed in this Trying Transitional Time. This may be one of pogblog's most important philoso-political Fables. Please let yourself slow down to read it. It's not long. (If you read it with your mouth as if outloud, that'll be the right speed.) Until we grok or get this meta-information -- and teach it -- we will not be a sane species. . . . In which Dan Gero, a philosopher journalist for the South Mars Gazette, explains that the kind of behavior suitable and amusing in a disembodied or ethereal condition can be grotesque in the solid terrestrial state. . . . Presently Terran Incarnates have no inherent rights under Galactic Law. Only recently have Incarnates developed sufficient consciousness to be considered galactics rather than merely humans, the galactic slang for clever pets. The raging Question that divides the Galactic Council is where the line is drawn for full sentience privileges . . .    more »

No, this one ain't political red meat. It's about the next quantum in perception - the quantumly erotic joys of holographically shared thought. . . Or what we're fighting all these political battles for. . . .Give it a shot. It'll change your life. Imagine between the two of you a translucent globe in which your conversation emerges like a play, a terrain, shifting and embellishing as each of you speaks. It is not you nor them; it is the Third Thing . . . The Third Thing floated between them like a continent seen by a hawk. The Third Thing, an aleph, was detailed as you dove in closer like the hawk for a fish . . .    more »

If I have to live next door to someone willing to call child-mutilating 'collateral damage,' I want to know. If you in your hometown take a grenade and throw it at a child or mow them down with an M16UziAK47, you go to jail, get battered with outrage and shunning, get wired up in the fry chair and e-lek-tro-cuted. If the mutilated child is exactly the same End, but your Means is a noble son dropping a bomb from 10,000 ft or mowin’ ’em down with the M16UziAK47, you get parades, holidays, and sousa music? You do go to Karmic Jail, and it’s a profound security prison, let me tell you, and that is a faint solace for us. If you had to touch them as they died; if you had to push their wheel chair; if you had to look over their shoulder into the same mirror as them as they have to see every day that they’ll never be pretty again; if you had to sit with them as they watch unmutilated kids play basketball or soccer. The jury that judges you is dead children, is mutilated children, pilgrim . . .   more »

There is actually (reality, actuality; matter of fact, sober reality; truth &c; stubborn fact, hard fact; not a dream &c; no joke; be the case; occur &c; extant; afloat, afoot, prevalent; undestroyed; indeed; ipso facto) a military occult cadre in America who are paid by us taxpayers to stare at goats with intent to kill.¹    more »

But then there’s the rabbit-blackhole: Alice’s dream transmogrified into nightmare. Welcome to World Weird. People at the echelons who cocktail and pretzel with the President ‘drop’ de-bleated goats as a serious, if delirious, part of America’s arsenal for Global Domination . . .    more »

There is actually, not a dream, no joke, a military occult cadre in America who are paid by us taxpayers to stare at goats with intent to kill. This basic staring-at-goats-gig fact exists on the Planet you walk on and upon which you eat your Cheerios. Tremble and be afraid, very afraid – you’re paying for these people, and they are loose. . . . But, dear reader, it never occurred to me not once to just stare at the Lizard-in-Chief, Mr. Bush, until – until boils do us part. Yeah, friend, as many eyes and teeth as George owes for, I just can’t do death. But if boils is good enough for God to job Job with, they’re good enough for me to do unto George. Amen and hallelujah, brother . . .    more »

Trawler by Redmond O'Hanlon -- 'The earth is 80% sea' & we know all but nothing about this massive kingdom. ...   more »

The beloved community, but not the cotton-candy version; not Norman Rockwell's cover of Saturday Evening Post; maudlin Barasch ain't   more »

see Book Review sidebar   more »