It’s not that Little People will always lie to you; it’s
that they are indifferent to our concept of falsehood and the truth. They
wouldn’t know what to do on a true or false examination. They can’t comprehend
the concept. They’d make no stab at marking an answer. It wouldn’t do any good
to stand them in the corner (they keep complaining that we have a tendency to
treat them like children). You’ll have to admit that it is strange, this
concept of ‘truth’. It doesn’t exist in anything except for mathematics. History conforms to established
facts; science is based on hypotheses. Religion confuses truth with belief.
They make you swear in court to “tell the truth and nothing but the truth,” but
what they mean is ‘don’t lie’ and ‘not lying’ and ‘telling the truth’ is not
the same thing. So except for mathematics ‘truth’ is indicative of a desire or
a willingness to believe. I believe that answer ‘A’ is true. But ‘B’ might also
be true, I’m unsure. The absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. The
Little People don’t have any mathematics ( what I mean is arithmetic – adding
and subtractions, they have a geometry, a concept of shapes)). They can’t even
count. If you hold up your hand and ask how many fingers am I holding up, they
will respond with “a handfull”. Or they may hold one of their little hands up
and say, “this many”. It is true, that a lie has meaning but a lie is not
always a falsehood. It could simply be a non-appropriate response. I chose not
to chose either ‘A’ or ‘B’ (and that is the truth). Little People try not to
disappoint us. They will generally respond with an answer but it may not relate
to the question that we ask them but to what they think we want to hear. Later
we will examine their comprehension of the concepts ‘real’ and ‘imagniary’. And
that is why (because they have no mathematics, I mean arithmetic – or at least
not one based on the concept of numbers) it is said of them that “there may be
more and there may be less, but there is never only one,” for there can never
be a specific number of them, only a relative number (more or less). It is
always possible for there to be none of them. I am thinking about writing a
book called “Little People for Dummies”. That is if the word ‘Dummies” is not
copywritten, which I suspect it is (Posted – Private Property). The title
‘Little People Made Simple’ wouldn’t make any sense, but the title “Americans
Made Simple’ would. And that’s a fact because Americans are. Someone has
already done it, someone has already made them simple. By the way Little People
make fantastic economists because they are unable to distinguish a real
individual from an abstract individual.
More than one-million people are killed in road-accidents
each year in developing countries. The economic cost of this slaughter is
greater that the total economic assistance provided to these countries. 250,000
Chinese were killed or injured in the first six months of 2003 in
road-accidents alone.
The less the bureaucratic subservience,
the greater the authority of leadership – Leon Trotsky – My Life, 1930 p280
Gang violence is the least
Obscene of
our systematic
Violences
It is neighborly
As a matter
of fact
Quite mundane
On the other end of the spectrum
Is civilized warfare
Precision targeting
With munitions that have eyes
And with or without collateral damage
It Doesn’t
matter
If you have misidentified the target
Drive by or
fly by wire
A bunch of kids playing
Childish
pranks
Stand aside and let the professionals
Have at it and we will show you
How to do
it
On your wide-screen entertainment
Center
tonight
Stay inside, watch it on the big screen
The
predator. Hey that’s
My house
A lot of
fun, reality TV
The
elimination round
Is under way in high definition
It’s only 5:30 but this place is already full. As Bukowski
would say, “I like women that no one wants to come near: those who want to know
how they are going to get their next drink, and even more importantly how
soon.” Flesh up against flesh. It’s the essence of humanity (and of mole rats).
Willingness is what counts. Hair of the Dog – I still have a hangover from last
night. I slept most of the day. I had done something last night that I regret. I’m
not proud of it. But finally I did get up. The later I stay abed the later
I’ll stay up tonight. I don’t need to do that again. Go home before you get
wasted. I’d already slept half the day
away. “I’ll tell you. Do you have five fucking minutes?” “I don’t have five fucking
minutes,” I replied. He was wearing a yellow rain suit. It had not rained all
day. It had not rained for at least a week. Nothing in the forecast either. All
the tables are occupied. There’s an empty stool at the bar. It’s next to me.
It’s a rule on the LA freeway, don’t leave an empty space between you and the
car in front of you. Empty space attracts the crazies. An empty bar stool has
the same significance. “This seat is taken” I say. A red-head walks in. She’s
not in the same league as Donna Pension but not bad given that I’m only on my
second beer. Maybe she’ll occupy may vacant space. She doesn’t. She’s meeting
someone. She see’s him, a man with mutton-chop whiskers. He’s a dweeb but not
crazy like Captain Ahab who sent on his way. He motions her over. She sits down
opposite him at his table. They talk. There is golf on the TV. The bartender’s
name is Paul. Then my neighbor gets up and puts three dollar bills on the bar
and departs. Just my luck. Another empty spot. There is a big tall man with a
gray beard with his long hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s wearing a fake
leather coat. “Hey Big Daddy.” “How you doing Paul? Moved in with that girl
yet?” “Not yet.” They come and they go, bedmates and barmates. Sometimes they
are the same, but not tonight. I leave and catch a bus. I’ll go home and watch
some TV. Don’t make the same mistake two nights in a row. Check for any diseases and get to bed before
midnight. Tomorrow night I’ll be in better shape and maybe I’ll have better
luck. Here’s hoping that I don’t.
In Jan 2005 the Justice Department informed a watchdog group
that copies of the departmental files involving court proceedings against 1200
immigrants arrested and confined since 9/11 without trial would be provided to
the group at a total cost of $400 million in accordance with their FOIA
request.
Oh lucky Rimbaud
To have the experience of war
First hand at seventeen
Just to have watched it
It was glorious
To have been a boy
Or to an
old man
What didn’t have to fight it
But that was before TV
Drug cartels have consistently favored neo-liberal policies
Climate change is a collective problem demanding collective
action the likes of which humanity has never actually accomplished. Yet it
entered mainstream consciousness in the midst of an ideological war being waged
on the very idea of the collective spear – Naomi Kline – The Guardian, May,
2014
You might think that life for a rock would be dull, but it
is not. It’s a Marxian state that gets smaller and smaller until it weathers
away. Ha, ha – that was a pun. You see, rocks have have a good sense of humor,
unlike a lot of other things. Rocks can have fun. A good day (or a good decade
for that matter or even a good millennium) is when a human comes along and stubs
his toe on you. It’s funny how they hop about on one foot and holler. If you
have to wait for nature to take its course – freeze/thaw, frost heaves, a good
deluge – that can be dull. But life forms can tickle you – lichens inching
along on your face or roots wiggling underneath. You’re never alone. The older
generations come by to visit ever once in a while – blown in on the wind. You’re
born in the bosom of the earth. Get uplifted and split off of a cliff face.
Then tumble down into the valley. Gee, that was fun. Now I’m just sitting here
in the sun. I havn’t been just waiting here for you to come along and stub your
big toe on. I was once so big that God couldn’t pick me up. Now I’m just a
little pebble. Soon I’ll blow away in the wind or wash down the gully in a
storm all the way to the sea. Then its time to pick all the pieces up and start
over again – difference and repetition – or so the philosophers say. It’s done
all the time. If I only had a brain. And if I had an arm to scratch that
goddamn lichen with. But then I’d be no better than a human. Got to roll along
or I’ll gather moss.
