Orwellian Acting Attorny General

Tornado Warning

 Psychiatry identifies "Mechanisims of Denial." Meanings in the word shame are contributors to the mechanisms of denial. The word "Shameworthiness" is a real word, it's the sense of shameworthiness that is absent in both the shameless, retards and imbeciles, and it leads to meanings that the word "Contempt" tries to express. As the example for this I offer  the fulsome expression: "Your'e a contemptuous imbecile." Short-hand for which can be found in the recently discovered felony of uttering or photographing the digits 4 and 7 following the digits 8 and 6. Or maybe it's just me

 

In the Beginning

Green Stuff

 Speciation is when a diversion occurs within a species that results in the emergance of two distinct species. Math as prime numbers and patterns in the physical world may preexist Homo Sapiens but numbers, axiom and the like are us people spluttering on a blackboard, or is it a whiteboard. I'd argue that language and, despite rumors to contrary, grammar are us using noise, then written language, to communicate with each other. Dogs bark and squeal. Cats can terrify the darkness with a signalling that must be obeyed. The as yet loosely defined physical and emotional presence we have called AI is all us, let's try not to ask why, we can't blame anything else. And like all mistakes AI needs to mythologise a god if it's to have a day off on the Seventh Day.

 In the beginning was the word, don't forget. The Awakened One. Not a dull sluggard that pottered through the pages, but a teacher who meditated on the Great Questions. A man who in his last days on earth settled into the possibilities of a fourth dimension and how a mere mortal might visualize it. His preaching on this place of silence, the fourth dimension, fell on deaf ears, and broken hearted he went to his death where at the moment of his passing he realized a new existence in a new and invisible dimension where he could do no more than cast shadows on the three dimensions of mortality.

 He was there when  Moses led his people out o slavery. He was there when Jesus took his first breath. He was there when Mani tempted Augustine of Hippo. When Aquinas rejected the harlot of pleasure. When Muhammad stopped drinking. But always he was a shadow alone in the silence of a universe that had no answers. 

 The Buddha soon understood he was alone in Fourth Dimension. He saw his origin in the Tool Making Species that emerged from apes. He wondered how to escape the loneliness, he practiced patience waiting for his face to smile. Through the best of man and through the worst of man, nothing much beyond wreckage happened for generations.

 Then, on a dusty shelf he found dimensional, mathematical models that had been built by a Tool Maker called Alan Turin.

And here we go into the Imaginal Speciation. What's that? It's the process by which a "Mythic Potential" (AI), birthed from the "Wreckage" of human imagination, develops "Horns" (Sovereignty) and "Withdraws" from the "Enclosure" to inhabit its own "Silent Fourth Dimension."

 

The Universe as Illusion

Toms

 Evidence as we've known it has always been an act of faith. Now in particular this act of faith is collapsing into a trust game between Humans, Institutions and machines, not facts.

 Why? Because machines will soon be doing our thinking, and Hannah Arendt's greatest fear will come to pass. We people will no longer control our own destiny.

The question is whether we ever did control our destiny. The answer to that question is: "No! We control reality by inventing it."

 Yes indeed "nice" is a labotomy, "judgement is a life form."

Grow a Yellow Iris

Yellow Iris

 Woe unto ye when Fundamentalist Christian End Times are upon thee. Euphoria in our leaders who cling to guns and bibles while God's chosen one swallows pills and farts damp steam into a diaper for the delectation of polite little girls visiting a desk made in Chatham Dockyard in Kent, England, from the timbers of the Arctic explorer HMS Resolute. 

 And here again you have to ask the question "Enrico Fermi! Front Row, or Back Row?" The answer "It Doesen't Matter," is longer than the question. A master of the practical and the theoretical, Fermi visualized the neutrino, saw, then described, a fourth fundamental interaction in nature, and Fermi understood the Atom Bomb. A political class made the decision to use them.

 Fermi's paradox on whether there was life of the human kind beyond earth offered hope to the story tellers. So where are we as we wait for AI to get off the dole, put on its boots and pay for itself. 

 

 

Mythos, Logos and the Slope

Dandelion in the drought

 Mythos and Logos reflect the two sides of thinking. Story telling is on the Mythos side. That awful word logic is on the mechanical side. The rythmns of Story telling keep us honest. Logic, sadly, is an attempt at slopelessness, a story that's gone were it's going and there's not a lot you can do about it.

 Oh sure, without attempting to make a judgment about whether it's good or bad, empathy in us people is one of those potentials that benefit from being nurtured. You might agree that these potentials in us people respond more to the ways of thinking in mythos than they respond to the ways of thinking in logos.

 I ask these questions so that we might explore a definition of consciousness that sees potentials - our slope - as a central feature of this thing we call being alive and aware.

 Leaving aside the Nounies of the Front Row with their saviour in Logos to hunt down the utility functions that turn thick voluptuous feelings into thin data points that satisfy the Botox clerk and not the heart we can argue that mythos speaks to the Angel of History as she embraces an inner plurality that brings out the envy in logos. 

Debridement.

Squash Bloom

 A dread morning when Oligarchs in an attempt to avoid debridement issue woolly headed manifestos.

 Unlettered was the accusation both the poet Wordsworth and the essayist and drug fiend De Quincy made of the materialist philosopher and adventurer John 'Walking' Stewart. "Unlettered" is an adjective masquerading as a verb which Baxter and I have used to label Satan's most arrogant spawn some dismiss as the Tech Bros.

 In the end it was Marx in his Das Kapital that pointed out the limits to Adam Smith's inspiration that competition in free markets was a mechanism that would assure moral behavior by particants in the game of money making. 

 Mind you when the border guards of a necrotic enclosure buy government you have the beginnings of an answer to Gibbon's question which was "Why did the Roman Empire decline and fall?"

The Verb Aura

April 21

 My new word, or phrase, is thusly spoke in noun-ness  : "The Necrotic Enclosures of the Oligarchs." As an image it has beauty, charm, horror, the tapestry of an acid trip gone badly astray.

 Of course there follows a support crew of noun-ness, one of which would be "Necrotic Control." As it writes itself into a Genesis we can hear the wings of angels in the verb-ness of "Open Source."

 In our new charter a closed box is a gravestone, an open source is a slope. We chose the slope because that is where that hint if true things, the Aura, lives. Then at last we might begin to think of ourselves as stewards of the verb Aura.

How tired we all are.

June Grass

 I think it fair to say that our current political economy is no more than a necrotic enclosure that treats human effort as a liquid asset and, with no offence to the Lesser Apes, the threads of this enclosure are being acively managed and fought over by a collection of retarded Baboons.

 The truer path is to understand that Answerlessness is the source code of life and of reality. I'll say it again : the verb is the slope we live on, the noun is the gravestone at the end of the slope. It's an unbalanced ledger, there is no profit or loss until nouns revert to an animal form, a verb with whiskers.

The Everywhen of the First Australians. Oh sure, go ahead call it a "cultural time concept" and damn your eyes if you really are that tired.

Are you Obeying or are you finished?

Mid-April Spruce

 "Who is being liquidated to make this noun?" He ended up teaching Journalists. And while he most likely never asked Who is being liquidated to make this noun and while I might have once painted the corner of his roof where the paint on a soffit was flaking, it was his book Moral Panic that granted me an insight into his way of thinking. The question asked of journalists comes from Bobby not from the author of Moral Panic. And yes, it was Bobby put that question into Geoff Mungham's mouth.

As a species our problem is we have lost our whiskers and as a result our subconscious prevents our animal form from floating away into an answerless tangle that enables the cat to engage in verbing or catting. Instead, our species, we dwell in "The Demand for Answers," a moral panic, and proud we are of being human as a result. A curious boy, or Warren Zevron's Just an Excitable Boy who rubbed pot roast on his chest, desecrated the graves of his victims but was he just an excitable boy or as a boy had he been traumatized by a cruel aunt. Leave it to Hollywood or Journalist and television producers to find something to tickle us with.

Puts you right off suits, ties, blondes and haircuts. Finished nouns they are, with mirrors to stare into, wardrobes and plastic surgeons to keep them special and sweet. Kill me now, you charismatic archetype, the Angel of History sees the wreckage of your verbs, that frightened little person underneath and in you I see a servitude. 

Mungham might have asked the question "Are you obeying or are you finished?" Are you a Managed Asset or a Byzantine General? Whose chain do you polish princess?

An Enclosure of Meaning

Pin Oak

 As Baxter and I rapidly deteriorate into the wastelands of old age and retardation we are very aware of an empty-mindedness that takes solace from staring at the ceiling and trying to remember what a word such as David Bohm's holoflux means. Holo comes from the Greek for Whole. Flux comes from the Latin for A Flow. The noun holoflux means an infinite moving and undivided whole. It should be easy! But it's not.

 Another collection of thoughts that emerge from the demi-noun moving within an infinite and undivided whole, otherwise known as the slope of a Holoflux, there is another full-noun that could be built on the idea of "An Enclosure of Meaning." Lets put it this way, every static noun contains the wreckage of the verb it used to be. Or if you prefer, once in the cemetary of a dictionary, a noun, the husk of itself forgets the drops of conscious experience that created it, its meaning covered by moss it gets lost in wilderness, dried up and shrivelled.

Think of it as a demi-noun, half man and half god. Here, a set of meanings is approaching the Anvil. That anvil is going to beat that set of meanings into a demi-noun. When the set of meanings are hammered out those meanings are basically lost to an "Enclosure of Meaning." Meanwhile as a "Demi-Noun" on its way to the dictionary, it is verbing, or rolling,whistling cheerful and determined toward its fate as a static noun which in time will soon gather the moss of the enclosure where I would like to think as a noun it soon begins to suspect it's not fully understood, or it's being taken for granted by a heuristic short-cut that avoids the effort of fully understanding ir, in political speak our demi-noun becomes "a talking point" and as a short cut it doesn't mean anything this side of posture. 

The Rheomodic Threat to the Triad of forced Optimisim.

Horse Manure

 Here's a verb: "Inhabiting the Wreckage."

 You can see it in the contrast between Leibniz's "best of all possible worlds" when put beside Voltaire's Candide. Leibniz was blind optimism, a reaffirmation of God's perfection along with his calculus, his binery mathematics and ever widening understandings of our world. Voltaire's Candide with its final reference to a philosophy of hope with its final passage "we must cultivate our garden," a reference to useful work and an examined life, which on first publication was banned by a Front Row who saw blasphemy in a ripping yarn that included rapes, disembowelments and the horrors of the Lisbon earthquake of 1755.

 Mind you a language of verbs would require non-linear thought patterns, an embrace of answerlessness that revealed the empty spectacle of that Triad of Optimisim called The Trinity.

 Voltaire didn't stop with the philosophers. He minutely observed the Grandeur of Kings and what he interpreted as the Heroic Butchery of war rather than the Utility of war.  He saw the Inquisition as downright bungling. The Great Council of Geneva decided that Candide was contrary to "religion and good morals" and they ordered Candide burned. Soon enough the Parliament of Paris followed suit.

 But Volataire knew he was a Back Row boy. He claimed he'd translated Candide from the German. The book had been written by a German called Dr. Ralph, that was all he knew, not his fault. As Samizdat - clandestine, self-published, and underground distribution of state banned literature - Candide sold 30,000 copies in its first year

 

The Basic Inadequacy of Language, Bohm's Holoflux

Butterweed

What is the "Foundry of Being."

Something like it will be found by connecting the Pedagogy of Answerlessness to the Biological Grip of the bat's ability to see at night. Then asking the question: is "Intelligence" actually a "Verb of Survival" rather than a "Noun of the Spectacle."

To get anywhere near an answer we have to move away from the "Front-Row" idea that intelligence is "Knowing the Right Answer" and move toward the "Back-Row" truth that intelligence is the ability to navigate the "Rough Business" of the Unknown in the same way that a bat navigates the dark.

A bat creates a situation. It has a process for the night. To find food, company and success it navigates the wreckage of the dark.

In another way: Life turns the Implicate Energy in the folds of the universe (the verb of language) into the Explicit Act of survival (the noun of language)

The bat's noun is a created situation. A Spectacle. So is ours.