Three Meme Theme

We Humanize Cars, As Cars Dehumanize Us

we humanize cars as cars dehumanize us

We Call It Wind Damage, Trees Call It Counter-Terrorism

we call it wind damage, trees call it counter-terrorism

cages for our bodies, cages for our minds

cages for our bodies, cages for our minds

For more context on my tirades against cars, this post here fills in some gaps. I am fortunate enough to have not lost anyone to a car crash, but it is never out of the realm of possibility so long as these dangerous machines prowl the Earth; tens of millions of others have not been so fortunate to steer clear of car injuries and fatalities, and it is learning from their experiences and on the behalf of the future victims that we should alter our transportation habits ahead of continuing catastrophe—change before the crisis!

A more overarching diagnosis of many of the problems we face registers when we look at the role metals play in our industrialized world.

Sunday Night’s Watch: Predictions for Game of Thrones [edited]

¡¡”Spoiler Alert”!!

On the eve of the season 6 premiere, I wanted compile the predictions for the season and the show en todo that have been ruminating in a few corners of my mind. With the show having surpassed the books on many major storyline fronts, the bookreaders cannot spoil anything for we who have avoided the books, nor can we spoil it for ourselves by trying to glean too far down the back-story rabbit hole (which is how I stumbled upon Lady Stoneheart).

1) This prediction I already spoke of—Cersei will die by suicide by the end of the season, reasoning explained here (see item 3).

2) The biggest wtf moment of the show—Lady Stoneheart. One of the very last scenes during the final episode of the season, Catelyn Stark will reveal herself to either Sansa or a revived Jon Snow following a defeat of the Boltons and/or the death of Walder Frey; she will be with the Band of Brothers (who may appear earlier on in the season without her, perhaps foreshadowing her coming). This possible storyline is given new hope by this bit of newly leaked information. If she is meeting with Jon Snow, she will say to him something like: “you were not the only one of us who was saved”.

3) All shows must die—season 7 will never be broadcasted (see item 5), or season 8 won’t be if winter in Europe is mild this year upcoming with a harsher winter in 2017-18 (for this to make any sense the above link must be browsed); such a winter would be tied in with global financial catastrophes, all macro-catastrophes adding feedback loop chaos to one another to make a grand apocalyptic scenario. The final season of Game of Thrones (if not season 8), at least, will anyways not be viewed publicly. Regarding the announcement that season 7 will only be seven episodes and season 8 will finish with six episodes, I believe this to be a feign, possibly to get George R.R. Martin to release more notes so they can keep producing the show. I think they may do seven episodes for 7, eight for 8, nine for 9, and then possibly finish on ten for season 10, as their current ideal at least.

4) Not a prediction but a cynical observation: it was not an accident that the actor chosen to play Roose Bolton—by and large the most hated character in the series—looks like Vladimir Putin. You can draw your own conclusions, and nothing could realistically ever be proven and revealed in the media for our common consumption… but you have to wonder, and wondering is part of why we have evolved our wild imaginations.

[Edit: on 2016-04-24,#5 was added]

5) I think it’s probably one of the overlooked minor plot lines, but it may have dire consequences for the Lannister/Tyrell hold on the seven kingdoms. Mace Tyrell will have been unsuccessful in securing a new loan from the Iron Bank, making the situation tighter and more difficult for the two families.




psychotherapy to civilotherapy [Unfinished Draft of Short Story]

Another unfinshed tale that I don’t think I will make time to finish, in this life anyways…

They threw back their chairs, grabbed for their neighbors hands, and began their group chant:

“Whatever else I am, whatever has been added to my identity or taken away from it by the many oppressive forces in my environment, I am an animal. Civilization has not been meeting my basic animal needs, but I am stronger than the weight of many centuries of chains…”

One woman was reciting the chant with her eyes closed and fists clenched; another was looking at the floor and was just mouthing the words without any sound escaping; a man in a jacket sat outside the circle with his legs spread out, his right arm behind the chair giving him a suspended balance. There were others, none of them at their best, but all of them on a track they had never had the opportunity to be on previously. The extended mantra was putting them in their safe zones, their “homes not disguised as cages” as the group facilitator liked to call them.

“…I know I am damaged, but I have within me a power greater than any yet devised in civilization, and that is the power to heal from deep wounds. I am here to give support to my fellow human animals who are rightfully feeling pain and anger at the situation which makes them feel less than they truly are. Solidarity!”

Most returned to their chairs but a few chose to lay on the floor. The man in the jacket stood up and looked to the facilitator, who gave him a knowing look and gestured for him to address the group.

“Hey, uh. I can’t stay long tonight, but, uh, being here is kind of trippy, I’m going through a lot, but, uh, this helps,” he smiled. “Uh, I want to be here more…” he stammered, “I can’t come for a while I think, I don’t think you guys are crazy though, I don’t want you to think that, that I think that you are crazy and that’s why I’m not coming back, for now. Thanks for listening, sorry to sound so stupid.”
“Nothing you said is stupid”, the facilitator looked up at him with a genuine. “It’s import…”

“Absolutely not stupid” another woman broke in. “Words are stupid! Not yours’ of course… really just meaning that we deserve to have better ways of expressing ourselves than the narrow range of inherited language. Feelings vibrate far deeper than any basso profondo.”

The man in the jacket met her smile and knew what she said was meant in kindness though he could only make out the gist of it. He gave an awkward wave to signal he was heading out but she rose to give him a hug.

“Be well out there,” she said as she squeezed him. “and know that we’ll have you in our thoughts, and we hope to see you again when you can make it over. We know it’s tough.” Their embraced ended, and he gave another wave to the group, this time a little more confidently, and he turned and creaked his way across the old floor to the stairwell.

The facilitator, a man with longish hair and a lengthy, untamed beard, cleared his throat and began to talk. “We do have some community news but I was thinking we’d save that for after processing instead. But before we begin with our processing, and we do have a couple of new people that I wanted to let start so please everyone don’t let me forget like I have in the past.” He smiled. “I thought instead of news we should let Martello share something he put together for us.” He gestured to a man who climbed up from a floor spot, similar in many ways to the man in the jacket, including in gait as he walked to behind an empty chair, perhaps as a makeshift podium. He fumbled for something in his pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper.
“Hi everyone,” the man said. “My name is Martello” he looked at the new faces, “for those of you who don’t know me. Um, I thought of this the other night, and it’s not really complete… I was even thinking, it’s kind of different, but um maybe we could complete it together. But let me read it so it makes sense, and if it’s not total garbage and you want to help out, I think it could be a good thing.” He looked down at the paper he was holding, and started to read:

“Civilization is now trending,
mankind has gone viral,
the future is now tending
to a great downward spiral”…

“…and then I’ve got another two lines I thought of earlier, but they don’t fit exactly, definitely not in rhythm anyways…”

“Lack of a refuge does not erase the refugee
Paralyzed in place does not blind what dreams see”

Money Spends Us

The Critique of Money, a part of

When we give legitimacy to money (by using it, accepting it as payment, etc.), we are dispersing our power, sidelining ourselves and handing over authority to all the unfathomable quantities of combined monies that elsewhere exists. Agreeing to be part of the money system is in more than 99% of human cases the agreement to deleverage oneself; it is from the get-go the signaling of an agreement to fractionalize oneself to the betterment of non-reciprocating others. The uncritical educational propaganda says money exists to facilitate trade, when money really exists to facilitate trampling. How many sustainable subsistence economies existed throughout the world before the narrow conception of money/property was introduced—at the point of a sword—to siphon off the inherent non-monetized value that had been previously built in these locales? Money facilitates conquering and victimage at both the macroeconomic and microeconomic levels; it has never been employed to facilitate symbiosis (though some symbiotic tending people may have deluded themselves that money was a positive part of their program). Money grows (and is grown) in the vacuum of a fleeting and absent symbiosis; it parasites on the death of trust, and wedges in between more and more areas of receding life.

If money doesn’t taste like it is this bad of a pill to swallow, it’s because we aren’t the ones who did the original swallowing. Our great great grandparents had to swallow that pill at a creeping dosage, and we are merely born dependent—hopeless junkies looking for a fix, rather than looking to detox. Money is the greatest and grandest Ponzi scheme, extended so much so that the original creators are long gone by the time the game collapses. Because so many different entities are dependent on money, their own epic failures obfuscate money’s prime role by the sheer number of debris that litter the ad hoc graveyards. So what happens then? After a generation, money reenters the equation to rape the next era, mistakes repeating themselves.

So long as the money system remains legitimate by our energy inputs, money that isn’t possessed by us is money that is potentially—and more than likely eventually—wielded against us, if not directly than through the inevitable erosion caused by externalities. Money is internally a zero-sum game; it naturally pits people against one another which some argue allows for a productive competition, which in turn causes an external net benefit: money has been part and parcel of the progress that we’ve seen. But this progress is really just that of money breaking down the natural defenses to the commons (wearing down people, animals, and life to exhaustion and quitting), with more and more natural resources becoming “monetized” and future inhabitability of vast lands put in to jeopardy. The true cost of money is not a zero sum, and it is certainly not a net benefit. The true cost—by which I measure using a core and utterly essential foundation to know where we are truly at—is the level of biodiversity and biomass occurring on Earth. Since the rampant exportation of money economies—what we call European colonialism—that measure is way down; life is dying all around us; life requires symbiotic relationships for a synergistic net gain, yet synergies including organic complexities, are dwindling. Trees are much more easily turned in to money than money is turned in to trees, just as violence more easily gets rid of something than peace recreates it.


when a person is frugal they are tightening their own belt, when a corporation is frugal…

“when a person is frugal they are tightening their own belt,

when a corporation is frugal they are tightening another’s noose”

Perhaps I will put this on a picture meme one day…

In a related, critical-of-corporations vein, is this previous post criticizing the acceptance of corporations as legal individuals and the negative impact this has on us → The Inflation of Rights

[edited 2016-04-19]

Oberyn Martell's Lost Poetry Fin

Twelve and Five—Oberyn Martell’s Lost Poetry: A Game of Thrones Extension

As the de facto posthumous editor of Prince Oberyn’s written word, here is another untitled piece that I have warranted as relevant enough to publish for the readers’ intrigue. I have chosen the title “Twelve and Five” for referencing sake. The origins and reasons for Oberyn’s motivations on this work are unknown, save perhaps the small bit of evidence of some ink spilled on the right side of the parchment, and the bottom five lines were written in a larger more exaggerated form than the others.

words without power of tongue are not said
words thought but not spoken turn inward, as dread
all that lives should bleed love or bleed red
absent these two states a body sinks, already dead

if not ready to bed one is not a true friend
in the throes of another does awakening spend
before breaking an enemy is one’s own bend
death to life is only superficially a confusing blend

in this world outlooks tend towards a dull bleak
out of this world more vibrant planes we seek
but either here or there, outlooks are for the weak
for it is in-looking strength that builds its own peak

combined with the lives of wee onlookers beaten so low
what happens on Westeros makes for good show
the sorrows of a knife conspiracy against a lead crow
left bleeding enough to melt the beneath him snow
does make greater emotional impact than one they know