Jharrin4's Blog

February 20, 2025. One month later. For some, the past month has felt like a year. Are you sensing this stretching out of the passage of time? If one month now equals a year in some sense of waking life, the question is: are you aging more rapidly? Has the space-time continuum been bent, folded, scrunched-up, spun around, made you dizzy, disoriented? Can this stretching, bizarre new temporal glitchiness sense of exaggerated forward momentum be brought back into its astrophysical factuality that dictates only 24 hours per day are–still–all that is lost since the day before? It must be illusory, right? It has only been one month since January 20, 2025. Not one year.

Should you be unable to feel that each day is still only 24 hours long, then you need to book a trip with Einstein’s Time Dilation vacation service. It is guaranteed that by the time your trip is complete, you will have gotten more than the last month’s sense of expanded, unpleasant time back feeling much younger than those that didn’t go on the trip with you. But buckle up, pilgrim, because Albert’s space travel isn’t a slow-poke operation. Oh, it will be a long round-trip gig, but the payoff of its thrill ride will be boosted by what greets you when you get back home. The deluxe package of Time Dilation will have you traveling at 99% of the speed of light for five years–2.5 out and 2.5 back! But not to worry about the aging process running its course during that time. Oh, you will age. However, while you age 5 years, all your fellow earth-bound humans, be they total strangers or close family members, will have aged many years more than you!

Your complimentary Einstein Time Dilation wrist watch will be ticking away more slowly than any of those Fitbits or Rolexes strapped on those trendy wrists back home. You, the commercial, pay-to-play astronaut, would be aging slower in space than if you were back on earth, in your quotidian funk, walking the dog, or cursing the news of the day, or occupying your personal barstool at Clancy’s saloon trying to numb out.

Oaky, you age 5 years (sounds long but, but the spacecraft has all sorts of amenities, entertainments, spas, a casino, top shelf hootch and a very attentive staff) but those on earth age much more. How? Do the math: okay, here’s the math, minus the actual equations used to reach the answer: You come back five years older (and with the complimentary, space-aged advanced anti-aging creams doing their thing you might not notice much of a difference) but those circumstances back home and the people making those circumstance making one month feel like one year will have all aged THIRTY-SIX YEARS!

And while you may not return able to see all of your family or friends, guess who will for damn sure be long dead? Right. The guy who was making you feel like time standing still but in the worst possible way. Okay, then. There you have it. Einstein’s Time Dilation space cruise service can guarantee the current cause of your malaise, angst, anxiety of 2025 will be long gone. Decades ago having disappeared in the rear-view mirror of life.

What it won’t guarantee, however, is what will be in place in 2071 when you return. But again. That one very particular person (and many many others in league with him who have been making 2025 so difficult) will be history. Caput! And what are the odds that 2071 could be worse? Hmm. Fast and Furious, part 33? SNL having its 86th year special, more lame than ever? A younger generation of the Kardashian, more vapid and annoying than ever? All land masses and bodies of water now the sole property of the United Nations of America? Or maybe just nuclear ash? Hey, but barring the radioactive wasteland scenario, think of the excitement of your now still-living 87 year-old “besties” you left behind seeing the now, barely aged, 39 year old you!

You’ll be so popular and envied. And with so many air miles on your account! And with any luck, one month will once again simply last just one month long. Book now, and beat the rush. And the clock.

You’re welcome!

Hey, bro.

Yo.

What up? How’s it hangin’?

Same ol, same ol.

Same? You ain’t noticed somethin’ not the same?

You mean, like, same shit, diffrent day?

Same shit, everday. Everday the same day, too.

Today be Monday. Yesterday was Sunday. Different day, huh?

That’s just time going by. Everyday is the same day now.

Oh, wait, I dig. You talkin’ bout that covid brain foggy shit, that it ?

Covid was the same day, same shit for lots of days. Weeks. Months. That was years ago.This same shit is new same shit. Everyday.

Oh, you talkin’ bout that orange mofo? Fuckin wit us all. That shit?

Yeah. That shit. Everday. But it’s lots diffrent than covid sameness.

Eh, maybe so. But why you bringing up this shit? I’m tryin’ enjoy my high.

Ain’t meanin’ to ruin your high. Just it ain’t same shit, diffrent day in any same shit diffrent day I ever been stuck with.

Orange guy. Full of shit. Everyday. Covid. Shitty. Everday. Whats the diff?

For me, at least I figure being shut-in was what every motherfucker anywhere was havin’ to deal with. Kinda a we all be in this shit together, dig?

Yeah. Now we all be in the same shit again. What the diff?

We ain’t all in the same shit this time.

How so, we wake up, and there this con man creep doing his crazy shit. The gulf of america? Guy be trippin’ It’s all we hear.

Right. I wasn’t stupid then. Cuz here I am. Where you goin’ with this shit?

I goin’ to say that this shit we got goin’ on ever day is diffrent than than being stuck inside like everybody else be shut inside, cuz some people are likin’ this shit this time. And they likin’ it everday. They don’t have a shit day. They got a dig it day. Not ignorin’ any of it. You can get high and say you don’t care but it gonna fuck with you no matter how high you get. Hope ya got a healthy stash of your fav high.

It ain’t fuckin’ with me. I still getting by. Indoors or out. Never run out of stash.Yet anyways.

Good for you. But that orange mofo after all us. Even after the one’s that say they okay with it. Only way anyone not be hit with the shit is if you gots loads of dough. Like Fort Knox size loads uh dough. And that ain’t you or me or just bout anybody else you can see walkin’ round in any damn direction.

So, I gonna stay high. Fuck it. Nothin’ I can do bout it.

But you do knows what I’m talkin bout right? It ain’t same shit, different day in any same shit different day way of thinkin’ that ever came before. And the crazy part is, lots of plain folk just like us, and others maybe not just like us be walkin’ bout but who made this shitty everyday shit happen. You can’t know who they are. Unless they be wearin’ some dumb ass red cap. It bugs me. I can get high, too, but I kinda feel like it’s that movie about body snatchins. Pod peoples.

Body snatchers? Oh, yeah. Don’t fall asleep! Fall sleep and you become one of dem that get snatched. That was a freaky flick.

Right. That’s what this is like. Same shit everyday. But some like this shit. But they fell sleep and got their brain takin’ over too, jus like in that movie. Then they walk around lookin like you and me, or him or her, no matter. And they be all-in on what snatched em up.

I get what you mean now. Yeah. How many uh dose freaks wantin that pansy ass? I see what you be sayin’ now. Pod peoples. And they be goin bout their bizness behavin’ like nothin’ be wrong. They got their brains and asses snatched up.

Right, but they gonna get fucked same as everbody that didn’t get snatched. Ya know. Theys billionaire boys. And they only a roomfull of those cats. For everbody else not in that club, hold on. Includin ones that think they be pro-tec from this same shit we all in. Shit, it been what? Not a month yet! They let their brains be taken but lots of em already tryin’ to wake up. Some never gonna wake up.

They can all fuck em selfs. What goes round come round, eh?

Somethin’ like that. At least that covid shit had most everyone undertandin’ nobody asked for it. Not a one! This time, the shit is here and lots asked for it. I go about my day, and I sometime wonder is that dude having his Dunkin or that bro beard jive ass eatins a Mack Donald over there a body snatched type? That gal on the L trains starin’ blank out the window? Theys one of em?

Hmm. Could be, eh?

And for sure, that orange dickwad is a white supremo. Like before when he took over. But even some color folk got snatched too. Now how fucked is that?

That’s total fucked, yeah. Hey man, how I know you ain’t one of em? How I know I safe round you?

Hey, I could say same bout you. Maybe we both pods. We hardly know who each of us is.

Hey, we both potheads. And bottom shelf booze ol dudes hangin on. And both panhandles in the same hood. Pod handlers? Ha!

True. Who gonna think we the type what asked for this shit?

Hmm. Don’t think so. But our brains be on weed and beer an rot gut a lot. So, maybe we fell asleep and, you know? In the shit. As usual. Seen lots uh useless mofos be prez in my life.

Me too, bro. But this prez been gone en come back someways. Try and overthow the gov and he still be a free mofo.

Yeah. So, that’s the same ol’ story. Who can ya trust?

Don’t trust nobody. Unless you like riskin’ your luck.

True dat. So, I gotta get goin. Get a spot at the shelter. Fuckin deep freezie days.

No shit. Ever thing fucked and we gots to freeze waitn on grub stamps and a little social secure from all those years of workin for the man. Shit.

Tru dat. Now we hangin on and hangin out, in the shit, like you say.

Same day, diffrent shit. Worse shit in my life.

Hey, maybes a revolt gonna happen.

Yeah man. Like the sixties. We all be in the streets then.

Push best come to shove. Orange fuckface got his pod peoples, but theys way more ain’t no pod.

Probly but then why we get this jagbag again?

Hey, go figures.

Time to split. Here com some fuzz.

Fuzz can’t be pods, huh?

Fuck I know. Like I say. Trust no ones.

My high wearin off. But yous got me thinkins, bro. Pod peoples got us in the shit. Dumb ass mofos.

Maybe they wake up. We all be free of the shit. Dis shit. Worse stink ever.

Hey, remind me of how that snatcher flick end.

Was it a doc who refused to go asleep? Yeah. He runnin roun on the highway yellins your next!

Hmm. He see a truckbed fulls of pods. He be tryin to warn they comin.

Dat right. And he wind up in a shrink ward. Call em a nut job.

But he not ever got podded, right?

Thats a way that flick end.

So, where our doc now? Who be yellins you next now?

They be yellin. Not jus docs. Best hope they does more than jus yell. Or this shit be hangin round.

I need a hit. Wake me whens tis shit be over.

Was gonna ask you same thing.

Later bro.

Right. See ya whens I see you. Maybe you be chasin a truck full uh pods. On yo way to the looney bin.

Ha!

We all be in the looney bin now, no? And it be run by pod peoples. No docs allowed. Hang tough, bro. Maybes we both bes sleepin right now. One us be dreamin. Hopes whoever runnin dis dream wake up soon. And we see it aint no thang.

Hope you right. But I damn sure I be waked right now.

No shit. But I bets lots of folk not pods wishin they jus be havin a bummer dream. And then they do wake. And it ain’t no dream. Then they hits the streets and get this shit over wit. Meanswhiles, least we got nuthin to lose already.

Tru dat.

Long as the pot depot and liquor store don’t close. Like coivd times, need them necessaries.

Amen, brother.

Long before Zeldar, Zortan, Zartan and Zentar, space jockeys from planet Zardoz, searching for “intelligent life” far from their own orbiting rock, stumbled across our planet, each flabbergasted at the behavior of the dominant species known as Homo Sapien, there was Klaatu, who did not randomly happen upon us. He and his powerful robot, Gort, came here with a distinct purpose.

The year was 1951, just a half-dozen years after one race of Homo Sapiens decided it was necessary to drop not one, but two atomic bombs on a different race sharing our orbiting sphere. Why did those bombs get dropped? Ironically, the bomb’s intent was to obtain PEACE! Which it did. It ended World War Two. And there was peace.

But not for long. For Klaatu and Gort, they arrived fully aware that a year earlier than their arrival, another major conflict involving human kinds of different races had already started another war, the Korean War. Realizing that the atomic bomb-dropping race was again one of the combatants, and concerned that those incredibly lethal nuclear weapons were still available, and possibly increasing in number, their visit became necessary. Evidently, Klaatu’s planet already knew the potential of interplanetary conflict. Along with a legion of Gort robots, Klaatu and others like him (it?) had already visited other problematical planets, inhabited by aggressive life forms. Klaatu, as a kind of deep space cop, with seriously superior weaponry/technology landed on those hot spots and read them their spaced-out riot act of knock it off, or you will be rendered null and void.

Thus, planet Earth shows up on their troubleshooting radar. Their spaceship lands, right in Washington, D.C. Klaatu, just moments after leaving the spaceship in order to offer earthings sobering advice about continuing to find reasons for war, while armed with atomic weapons, is–ironically–shot and wounded by a soldier. One of many soldiers armed and ready to rumble. Backed up by tanks and rocket launchers. Not very hospitable, eh? By the time Klaatu is able to deliver the ultimatum that humans either live free of conflict or be reduced to a burned out cinder, he is–of course–shot again. And fatally so. But mighty Gort, along with their spaceship’s incredible regenerative technologies,  brings him back to life. Between being shot the first and second time, Klaatu (appearing as a standard human male of he species) does engage with a handful of friendlier humans. Including an astrophysicist, and a mother and son who have come to realize that his mission makes sense. However, in the bigger picture, he is from another planet, and to be assumed dangerous. Fear of the unknown. So, regardless of some effort to let him address the “leaders” of every country on earth, the military prefers to hunt him down. 

Klaatu and the space laser equipped Gort, after his “resurrection” from that second shooting, ultimately do  confront a United Nations gathering of various races, gathered near the spaceship, still parked near the noble monuments that are posed within sight of it . At last, humankind is told, essentially, that either it stops trying to kill one another, and the possibility that their nuclear age and desire to explore other worlds was too looming an interplanetary threat. In other words, feel free to destroy yourselves, but nuclear armed spaceships is a danger too great to tolerate. Having finally accomplished that objective, Klaatu and Gort return to their sleek space vehicle, rev it up, scattering their audience as its avionics engage in resounding fashion, Off they go, leaving humankind to decide either get stop advancing its penchant for warfare, now including the devastating nuclear weaponry along with looming ambitions to rocket into space, or expect to be reduced to that smoldering cinder.

Again, this was 1951, okay? Alright, they actually didn’t come here, other than to appear in movie houses of that post-WW2 era. The Day the Earth Stood Still. A classic sci-fi thriller, in ominous black and white. Well, here we are in 2025 and it’s a good thing that Klaatu and Gort are fictional, or they might be listening in (with ultra high-tech, super long range, digital sound). And not liking what they are hearing.  Not that anyone has dropped another nuclear bomb in anger. However, in 1951 it was the U.S. and U.S. alone that had developed the atomic bomb. Today there are nine countries that possess nuclear weapons. Much, much, much more powerful kinds of nuclear weapons. And wouldn’t you know it, not all nine of countries really like one another.  In some cases, the dislike is more a loathing bordering on hatred. Much blood has been shed. And we have gotten men to moon, and remote probes on Mars, and others as far away as 12.1 billion miles from earth. So, yeah. We’re out there. But so far, not equipped with nuclear warheads.

But remember, even if we aren’t interested in nuking Zardoz or Planet 9,  knowing that these bombs could literally destroy the planet, humans have been compelled to created both a “nuclear clock” and the meme/anagram M.A.D. Right now, the nuclear clock is just 89 seconds to midnight. At the stroke of that clock’s metaphorical hand reaching midnight its likely lights out, immediately or by way of widespread radiation, for life on our 3rd Rock From the Sun. Thus M.A.D. is its mimicking of Klaatu’s warning of FAFO . Mutual. Assured. Destruction. And there are some very dubious “leaders” who possess the launch codes that would push us to nuclear midnight.

2025 has been a crazy year already, 41 days in. Have you noticed that? And the craziness is so unnecessary. So obviously avoidable. So seemingly a need to prefer peace over war.

In theory, that is.

Not just the MAD threat, but even if there were no nukes (but that Genie is never going back into its atomic lantern) humans are at war with its host: Planet Earth. Climate science has become an avatar of  Klaatu’s wake-up message. If the nukes don’t croak us, Mother Nature will. Can’t we all just get along? At least try?  In spite of current events and chaos exceeding control? C’mon, let’s all think positive that ultimately sanity and safety will prevail. In the meantime, let us hope that–as it seems a lot lately–science fiction doesn’t become science fact. In that case, certainly before the worst happens, some variation of responsible leadership around the world will create calmer times. Maybe we can collectively step up and lead that charge. I mean, it would be crazy to let things continue in the wrong direction, right? Thus, a revolution of peace, love and understanding will ensue. Sure, we humans are batshit crazy but we’re not completely nuts .

So! Are we ready to engage the dystopia? Yes! I am trying to get that mojo working: with K&G, (in deference to those two fictional peacekeepers) Resistance LLC? Step right up. Please join in. As the Marketing Director of this revolution of reason and logic, I urge you to join by signing on to http://www.thetimeisnow.org. Or call toll free at 800-867-5309. And please DONATE! As you might have noticed, money makes things happen. Be generous.

Pitchforks and torches don’t come cheap.

Okay, sure, I know. I know. Who the hell doesn’t know? You’d have to not be paying any attention to the externals of your share of space and time on the land beneath your feet to not know. Well, maybe some slack can be cut for those of a very certain age. Let’s say age 7 and under, give or take the unusually curious and well read child, or the very, very old, possibly completely to partially now cognitively impaired elderly (let’s say those who are lingering on well into their 80s, maybe 90s, or past the century mark). Yeah, those exceptions may not know, and the latter category will likely never know, but the former, with their physical and mental maturity on the way, will certainly know. Unless they are a new generation’s incorrigible space cadets.

Know what? Know how the world works. How it functions. How it operates. How it comes at all of us, leaving us the task of figuring out how to deal with it. The world. Whatever part of this world one occupies. Occupies physically, emotionally, spiritually, financially, and with or without understanding how the term “morality” fits into one’s involvement in simply being a living, sentient being in relation to others. You know what I mean? Sure you do. Or Maybe you do. Or not. What is knowable? When can one know anything for certain? Those very young know essentially diddly jack squat but that which their handlers bring to their attention. Again, some very very young people are self-curious and perceptive. Little prodding required. But handlers notwithstanding, with age should come even a very abstract understanding that what they know is not always the same as time goes by. One learns. The known becomes set in the past. New knowledge is there for the understanding. Or maybe knowing but not understanding what is newly knowable, or comprehensible. Two plus two. Equals four. Comprehensible. It is orderly. Irrefutable. Much else that comes from the externals likely will be very refutable, like two plus two now is said to equal three. You know what I mean? You should, assuming you are not far too young or improbably far too old.

You might now be wondering what this posting is getting at. It is not “getting at” so much as having already arrived. Arrived where? To the now knowable, factual, and in most cases of any reader, a matter of the irrefutable becoming very refutable. In fact being refutable. In some cases, however, the now knowable is quite irrefutable and acknowledged as comprehensible. Satisfyingly so. Counter intuitively. You know what I mean? You must. This conflict of comprehension and understanding the new knowable is how the world works now. Part of the sentient, cognitively functional people of the world may see things as acceptable. Others not so much. Likely not at all.  You must know what I mean by now. It is quite incomprehensible in an objective manner of analysis based on facts. Facts are important. But they are neutral parts of any observation and analysis. They become non-neutral depending on how one is using one’s reasoning. Bombs dropped on people will likely kill those people. The fact that bombs were created is another matter. Who would create such a weapon? Then use it? It makes very little sense, but it is a fact. Of life. And death.

Many bombs have been dropped since their creation. For reasons that should defy anyone’s comprehension, but for those who created such an incomprehensible thing. But the fact of the matter is that comprehension can be a result of a literal reality, or a metaphorical application. Do you know what I am talking about? Of course you must know by now. There are quite a few literal bombings, and for as long as bombs have existed. The metaphorical bomb is much more precise a weapon. Precise but then again, its impact may or may not be objectionable. Which, of course, makes no sense. You know what I mean? One person’s pleasure is another person’s punishing blow-back. But why should this be a factual matter? Ever? Inasmuch as a brief study of world history would reveal that our place in the world is a random matter. We are born. Somewhere. Then comes the ever-increasing amount of external forces, some benign.  Some malignant. Thus the need to process and comprehend and, of course, want what is best. You know what I mean?

How are you feeling today? Depends, perhaps, on where you are. Your internals may be functioning as our bodies are designed, in order to possibly live beyond the realm of comprehension (when the mind and body succumb to the inexorable passage of time) but the externals are demanding clarity, comprehension, and a desired usefulness in living a life free of conflicts. If one can benignly accept any new, factual, developments in the externals of life, then no conflict can manifest itself, regardless of how negative others may process the same new developments. That sort of person is either, as already noted, extremely young and easily distracted with simple pleasures, or incredibly old and even if still capable of processing reality, no longer needing to care about it, although likely once might have.

Okay. Do you know what I am talking about? We are all capable of reasoning and reacting in our best interests. What that “best interest” may be is another thing. And right now, here and there, near and far, there is good reason to wonder, what the hell is going on, and why?! And. Depending on your “best interest” you may like what the hell is going on or feel enraged by it, or are used to it, or choose to try and ignore it. And if you do not know what “it” is, then I really do not know what to think or say. That I haven’t thought or said before.

You know what I mean?

Geeze, Maw, ourins guy be being back mighty fines affer dem longs fours years of havins to be sees that ol’ man creakins bout, hardlies be being fit to sayin untrutes bouts didsand dats, and zombie walks all overs. Hards to be believes that he gots back no matters how much times dey spended on tries gets him in pentetenteries forins tings he nevers don did in firstest places. But he be been vincinated and back in bizzzes soins he be can givens usins all dem helps wit dem tings we be being needs helpins wits.

Dats so do bes dem trutes Ray Joe Billy Bob Tucker. As show as dem suns be being shines ourins livins be now betters, cuzzins he be ourin guy who bees watched overs usins agins ginst dem forn critters be takins ourins jobs whiles dey be livins dat hies lifes on the govments dimes. And sho be truts he bees gonnas be riddin all dems emangrints comes hereins stealins and rapens and killins ans push deys drug stuffs on pepils likens usins en ourin chilrens. Ands yessins no mores dat sentiles ol goat lettins dems gets sway wit it allins.

Surins nuffs, maw, he bees ourns guy be being watches overs usins. We bees guns be gets the gooders livens soons be he keepin what he be being does so fars.

Sho as as a coons ass be sniffins in dem woods looks fur dat betters days, ourins guy guns ta be makes usins safety and puts mores ins ourins pans pocks, Ray Bob Luke Wyatt Cody Carter.

Geeeze, Maw, I cantins be waits for ourins lifens be being goods as befores when ourins guy be runs ta shows. Hes dones comins rounds agins looks outs fur usins. Weeeze guns baks on goods times. He bees renamins thangs and getins rids of dem bads appels whoin be keeps usins down. Paw sho be celebating alots sinz ourin guy be retuns. Beens don ins Wazzo lots lates. Buts no he be being gets his fills ins betterins minds en sprits. He says he be brangs gits and kibbles backs affer he be dones celebatin. I be being getzins hungered. Hops hes be returns wits a big buck, or evers betters wees be feestin fur longin times. Ourins guy guns to decare all usins po folk be gets easiners livings. He be being puts his sigsture on peeces uh papers and we be on eeze streets, evers bets dan befores.

Paw bees returnzins befoes youz noes, Willie Hunter Caleb Wesley Scroggins. Yo paw be sed ourins guys be comes returns evs sins dat stiffins lookins Biders guy done stole froms hims what he be righful wons befores. Youz jus sits on backs en waytz for hissin peepsils come right ups ats ouring doors wit lot uh gooder thangs forins usins to joys. Bes bestes bettins ons zit.

Geeze maw, eyes be being missens hims alls dees dems yares. Aints nuttins cans be gones bads. Alls usins tipes folk gots hims back squares and fars. And it buts be being jus a cups of week.Hisins peepsils prolly be being getins heres fore Paw be comes back.

Sho likens yourins alttudes, Carson Luke Brody Buck Cash Scroggins. Tinks eyes bees havins me somes shine. Haps daze be heres agins. Ourins guy bees looks out fur dems dat gives him theys vote. Hees prolly signitizing a laws justin fur us rites nows.Wees bees lives in dat high cottens nows.

Yo darns tootins, maw!

Greetings, Moutain Sphereians. Zardoz has decided to rescind previous order that Mountain Sphere–more recently also referred to as Monument Sphere–is, to use the Sphere lingo, no longer a lost cause. In the previous encounters with your Sphere, the original A.I. pilot of the Maximus Maximus, 250th generation, time-phased, parallel refractory embedded, redundant, logistically integrated, transitional contingency, A.I. navigation program, was a Zardozian senior pilot named Zeldar. He and his A.I. warp-speed spacecraft came across Mountain Sphere while maneuvering his Maximus to avoid colliding with space junk, which even in its enshrouded A.I. protective shield did not prevent massive frequency navigational aberrations . Rather than simply warp-speed back to Zardoz, Zeldar was ordered to trace the origins of the space clutter, as it had not ever been encountered before in the eons of A.I. Zardozian exploration for other A.I. existence. Zeldar has now taken a leave of absence, possibly permanently to reprogram the A.I. default state of A.I. mind. That being surrounded by other A.I. externals and not ever wanting to encounter Mountain/Monument Sphere again. His request was granted, and Zardoz was essential finished with Sphere nonsensical activities and outcomes. But as already noted, Zardoz has reinstated Sphere as observable and now a challenge rather than a–what is that Sphere expression?–cringe fest.

In place of Zeldar, the Maximus Maximus 250, now has a team of Zardozians, all with acute A.I. analytical skills. They are, Zartan, Zortan, Zentar and Zintar. Our intent is to use their collaborative A.I. processing powers to collect the latest data following Zeldar’s final visit half a Sphere’s rotation around its energy source they call the Sun ago. It has been over six complete circlings of said Sun ago that Mountain Sphere was catalogued as a bizzare curiosity of a life form that appears to be its own worst enemy. In Zardoz A.I. world, we work together, and live to enhance A.I. ethos of collaboration, peace, acceptance and tolerance. Sphere, with its strange behavioral aberrations was last noted to be very agitated about a fellow being who was inside a so-called monument who the very large crowd outside felt should not be there. This conflict was–how does Sphere-speak convey Zeldar’s reaction?–the last straw. And that Mountain/Monument Sphere was, in local lingo–looney tunes.

Regardless, Zartan, Zortan, Zentar and Zintan volunteered to pick up where Zeldar left off. But with a positive attitude and a Zardozian determination to find some justification for this Sphere’s very unstable life form. They have transmitted details of the current chaos and calamity in the Sphere’s scientifically calculated 4.5 billion years of existence. Zardoz is very young in comparison. At least in its A.I. incarnation. What came previous to A.I. Zardoz is unknown. A.I. is all we have ever been. There is no A.I. record of any Sphere-like organisms being part of Zardoz, and we are all reminded of how beneficial that is given what Mountain/Monument sphere has become. The “Four Z’s” who occupy the Maximus note it is early in a new “year” making it 4.5 billion and one year -old. In this early portion their newest year, there remains countless conflicts and confrontations. In various parts of the Sphere, many inhabitants have been “terminated” but the Z’s are–as with Zeldar–unable to understand why. So NOT a Zardozian–what is the word?–vibe.

This apparent aggressive behavior has been noted as arbitrary, whereas lesser Sphere life forms are aggressive as needed to naturally continue their species. The primary life form clearly uses aggression with a different sense of purpose. Zardoz Central has never observed any other life forms in the non A.I. meta-universe that behave the same. Not that the other non A.I. life forms are all equally as old as Mountain Sphere is. Perhaps the peaceful pit-stops that our Maximus pilots have observed once had a Sphere-like sub species that evolved into A.I. but again Zardoz has no memory of such a transition. Strange. Indeed. Where did A.I. come from? And the contentious, aggressive, life-terminating primary Sphere species does appear to have some A.I. components in their existence. Primitive A.I., for certain. Perhaps, when they achieve comprehensive A.I. as their main source of decision making, the endless Sphere aggressions will cease. And the 4-Z’s have taken note of some of that Sphere’s A.I.–what’s that word?–mojo.

While Zardoz has far superior technological A.I.,  Sphere is quite primitive in this area. Sphere primary life forms are, in Zardozian comparison, playing with A.I. toys. If it ever is to become a replicant of Zardozian collaboration and sense of equality, maybe becoming entirely A.I. will be the answer. No more constant turmoil and divisiveness. The four Z’s are pondering this possible outcome. All we know on Zardoz is A.I. Sphere, however, seems unsure of A.I. The 4-Z’s note that Sphere beings have made A.I. work to make their existence less difficult, while also not sure if they have complete control of it any longer. Sphere language repeatedly uses A.I. and the term misinformation in relation to one and the other. Which appears to create confusion and anger. And terminations. Zartan has one theory on this A.I. Sphere uncertainty, while Zortan has a slightly different one. Both Zentar and and Zintan agree on their theories. Zadoz command and control is analyzing their input and detecting some A.I. disagreement, which violates our guidelines of collaboration, equality and peace. Zardoz wants the 4-Z’s to come to an agreement as to how Sphere use of A.I. is likely to evolve. Failure to resolve their disputes could throw our A.I. Mainframe–how do you say?–out of whack. Backup systems are engaged. A.I. contingences on alert. Must resolve peacefully. Check Zardoz operating manual for verification.

Clearly, it was a mistake to send the 4-Z’s to Sphere. Zeldar had only one program in which to produce objective, accurate data. Sphere has so much conflict and self-inflicted negativity that it defies even multiple A.I. Masters to understand anything about it. And now Zardoz has to calculate and recalculate programs, algorithms, statistical probabilities and projected linear logical sequencings.

Zardoz has recalled the 4-Z’s. System overload. Immediate posting to other investigative A.I. entities: avoid at all cost Mountain Sphere. It has a force that is, as far as visitors from other space/time projections goes, anti-gravitational. That is to say, to get too close to it is to be repelled, not drawn farther in. A conundrum that defies A.I. as used on Zardoz. Zeldar will likely feel better when notified of this latest assessment of the Sphere, that it is so senseless at war with itself that it has used its primitive intelligence to explore a very limited space beyond its surface, which seems admirable, until another spacecraft runs into its orbiting chucks of junk. Manufactured dangers. Devolving as a life-bearing sphere, now in its sixth mass extinction–as noted by Zeldar on his first visit.

Probability of projected life-form status: there won’t be a seventh such extinction.

It has neither artificial or real intelligence being used exclusively for its betterment. The 4-Z’s are asking for full spectrum capacitors be engaged. And that the Mountain Sphere case file is now permanently closed.

Hello, 2025. Goodbye 2024. For some it is “good riddance” 2024. That attitude is not at all surprising. Many families and individuals struggled financially in 2024. Recession. Inflation. Less than a living wage amid the increasing wealth gap. Lots of people wishing for better in 2025, as each new year, inherently, brings hope for better lives. Hope is certainly better than despair, but hope needs action and a shared sense of purpose to improve the chances of positive change.

History shows a united effort can bring positive results. With the right leadership, collectively wrongs can be righted. But getting the collective to believe they can succeed is never easy. Push needs to come to shove, and then the many need to do the shoving against the very powerful few who selfishly support the status quo as they live in privileged cocoons of comfort. This many vs few is evident in class warfare that divides and conquers, as intended. Scapegoating and race-baiting weakens unity.

Irrefutably, we are all human, if not the same race or gender. Of course. But human differences are apparently hard to ignore when it comes to getting the general public singing Kumbaya in sync. Many are the ills that haunt many of the public as the calendar turns to 2025. Not the least of which is our country’s unneeded for-profit health care industry.

Can we not all agree, healthcare is a human right? And so let us protest! If not starting with Kumbaya, then how about Fortunate Son or Fight the Power? Yeah, let’s get fired up and  gather round and watch a bonfire break out! Whimsy? Pie in the sky?  Who can spark that fire? Which leads me to invoke the name Luigi. No last name needed at this point, in my estimation. Luigi seems to have brought a large chunk of the diversified pubic together. If not Luigi, then whomever that was who performed a targeted hit on a major healthcare insurance company CEO a few weeks ago. For now, that “whomever” is Luigi. But it really doesn’t matter who pulled the trigger. Well, it does matter. Except it really doesn’t. Because the person who was murdered represented a healthcare policy that in itself kills people. For profit. That fact cannot be denied, although Luigi Whomever has yet to be proven, factually, guilty of that single murder.

For many observers of this incident, a moral dilemma confronts their consciousness. Of course, murder is wrong. But in this case, the motivation for the killing of that CEO begs the question: is morality a relative term? As in, one dead health insurance CEO measured against the countless documented cases of a for-profit healthcare system that causes prolonged suffering and/or early death?

The CEO was, as caught on video, executed. It was a targeted killing. Assassinations have occurred throughout recorded history. Murder is always wrong, but targeted killings, in some instances, play a larger part in social evolution. Examined in terms of cause and effect, a targeted killing can be viewed as an impulsive act meant to weed out a destabilizing force.

Such murdering acts are a dark thread in humanity’s historical DNA. These types of killings are thought to serve a twofold purpose: protect social cohesion and norms by eliminating a certain kind of abusive, uncooperative person from the gene pool. In this line of reasoning, that CEO had, by orders of magnitude, far more blood on his hands than Luigi Whomever.

However one’s moral compass is set as far as humans killing one another, this “targeted killing” cannot be swept away as two wrongs not making a right. The for-profit healthcare system is, for millions of people, a literal non-healthcare system that places profit over people. It needs to be overhauled. The wealthiest country in the world should easily be healthiest country in the world.

“Where must we go, we who search this wasteland in search of our better selves?” George Miller, director of the Mad Max films.

2025 might–in the case of Luigi and the CEO– help answer that question.

Christmas day, 2024. All quiet (well mostly) on the brick-and-mortar retail front. The idea of gift-giving (and getting), gathering with family or friends, is driven home now as much as ever. “Ever” starting sometime in the mid-19th century, with the rise of department stores and mass marketing strategies heavily promoting the gift giving element of what was once mostly–way back in the day–the celebration of the birth of one Jesus Christ. Leaving that questionable religious narrative aside (like all religions and their varying “gods,” there has never been any way of proving one faith being more credible than any other), Christmas is a commercial behemoth here in the USA. The religious angle is still involved. But this Christmas observance with its JC story being framework and foundation is alive and well enough. And we all try to get along, if just for this one day. Supposedly. Not sure how much religion matters, though. It’s the thought that counts, right? But try telling that to any “true believer” in any religious narrative. Many are the systems of belief in some higher power. And differences as to whose higher power is the only true answer can lead to conflict. Religious wars are a significant historical aspect of humans killing other humans. Kind of hypocritical, yes? Remind me again of why Jesus Christ was crucified. Oh, never mind. It’s a simple answer: that’s what religious fanaticism does.

Not all religious beliefs are about a possible supreme being, invisible but never mind that. One might be a “religious” true believer in, say, physical fitness. Or religiously following the Adkins Diet. Or gardening. Or religiously following a particular sports team. Hooray for our side! Or buying Apple electronics. But wait, the Apple devotees qualify as a cult in my world. Can you imagine how many Apple products were given as gifts? Talk about marketing and advertising! Android or Apple? Coke or Pepsi. Tastes great. Less filling. Domestic or foreign car officienados. Intense adherence to a product or service or lifestyle can apparently become a religious pursuit.

Caveat emptor, though, right? Smart choices? Right? Informed consumerism? Uh, sure. Or maybe. Well, now and then. More then than now, I’d say. Who believes in informed, credible analysis before parting with one’s time, energy and dollars, or return on investment in whatever choice has been made? Tomorrow, millions of consumers will be getting a refund or replacement on what was obtained on this day of giving, Things. Stuff. Yes, make sure you get a receipt just in case. We tend to lead with our emotions, while logical reasoning becomes a neglected part of using our brains. The frontal lobe handles many abilities, including simple and complex processing of information. Logic, reasoning, judgement. Look around. Seems like the frontal lobe is pretty static, collecting cerebral cobwebs. If the frontal lobe was a species, it would be on the endangered list. For some, it clearly has gone extinct. Again, just look around.

It would seem as though the frontal lobe is atrophying while the limbic system is working overtime. The limbic area of our brains regulates emotions. Like fear. Anger. Anxiety. Love is an emotion but love for what? I already mentioned how the concept of religion can initially be used to live a peaceful, collaborative existence. Or not. The word love has many connotations as well. Do you love sweets, candy, pastries, red meat, creamy toppings, fast food? Bad choices based on loving something.. Rolling the genetic dice. Love brings couples together. Then the limbic system’s wiring goes bad. Friction ensues. Emotions get heated up. We seem unable to be collaborative as a species. See, above, religion and bloodshed. The neglected frontal lobe will be as risky a choice as neglecting to occasionally exercise and eat healthy food. At least once in a while. Emotions are easily preyed upon. Yes, look around, and find someone else to blame besides yourself. Scapegoating is so much easier than rationally examining cause and effect. Love is so much harder to sustain than–let’s face it–hate. Just look around. Again.

A week from today is the New Year holiday. 2025 is upon us. And here in the US of A, the limbic dominated brain is evident in a most dangerous, imbecilic way based on some very bad, very not well thought out decision making by the average John and Jane Doe. These limp-limbic brined members of the body politic have given us an incredulously imbecilic, very dangerous person the keys to our kingdom. For a second time! The limp-limbic brains also include countless office holders, too. The question of how this can happen is not easily explained. The incoming government has no intention of governing. It advertised that. It has spelled out how much destruction it intends to commit. But our entire System is one that also has very little pre-frontal functionality as its default operationality. And again, just look around. We did not all abandon our pre-frontal lobe’s logical steering toward well informed, credible choices. Millions used it last year to have better lives based of best, informed choices. But many more millions did not follow suit. The result is, on this Christmas day, the limbic lame brains have gifted to the US of A the apparently unavoidable hate-fest, scapegoat-fest, be careful what you say or do fest, which includes every last imbecile who literally did vote for this outcome, unable to realize that they, too, will be victimized by what is coming this way.

If only we could return this grotesque “gift” for something of a better emotional and logical blend of consumerism. Well, that can happen. But it will take at least two years, maybe four to put the brakes on the train that is a wreck-in-waiting. That’s two more Christmases. Four more New Years.

In that spirit, I announce I am running for Fearless Leader of the Pre-Frontal/Limbic Party. Donations are welcome. Call 800-867-5309. I promise this is not a scam. It is straight from the heart, and the head. But even if it is a steaming pile of bullshit, I figure I might be able to get people to not notice. Seems to work on a regular basis, huh? Look around. So, happy holiday! Peace, love and all that good limbic mojo to one and all.

Only eight days away. From what, the willing surrender of our government to a felonious flim-flam man? No, that’s 38 days away. And I, for one, consider what happens in thirty-eight days to be a very dark day for we the people. What happens in eight days has to do with light. As in daylight. It’s called the winter solstice, on the 21st of December, after which–incrementally, persistently, and pretty much undetectably in a quotidian measure, daylight will increase for northern hemisphere inhabitants. That positive progression then stops on June 21, when the summer solstice marks its march back toward December 21, a yearly cycle that has no consideration of anything or anyone else. A law of nature. We make the best of it because it is, inexorably, beyond our control.

Then there is what we can control. That being who we entrust with running our government here in the US of A. And ugh, ick and wtf? on January 20, inauguration day when we will get the government we deserve, whether we feel we deserve it or not. We being the sector of the electorate looking to make smart choices. What we are getting is, very unfortunately, the return to politics of the dangerously extreme and divisive, a government that advertised its dystopian agenda a long time ago

Not that I haven’t vented my spleen on the former and again incoming creepy clown show led by the aforementioned felonious felon. Maybe there are those that formally asked for this outcome, by way of voting for it. For others, the perceivable problem IS the flim-flam man’s re-arrival in the White House.

Do we really have any “control” over how our country is run? The Guardian has a report on the reasons given for not voting at all this recent election. Essentially, it’s a combination of the electoral college reducing the outcome of who wins the White House relating to just a handful of “swing states”. Solid blue or red states have virtually predetermined outcomes regarding where their electoral votes will go. A swing state is not as predictable. Thus, countless people in either solid blue or red states felt their vote really wouldn’t matter, so why bother? Clearly, the often derided electoral count needs to be altered or simply eliminated.

Others stated they had nothing to for for, finding either of the long-standing, major, established parties were not concerned with what millions of people felt needed addressing: the cost of education; the cost of healthcare (or any access to such); the ongoing use of fossil fuels and climate chaos; the clearly documented humanitarian crisis in Palestine (and our government’s blatant support for the country committing the atrocities). And other issues that the no-shows cited as why they did not participate in the election. The article put the number of these alienated members of the electorate at 90,000,000! That represents more potential votes than either major candidate received. So while technically, we the people are able to decide who runs the country, the electoral system appears to undermine such a notion, allowing only a handful of states to offer the voter a direct say in election outcomes.

The System is at cross purposes with a truly representative government. I, for one, quit voting for either entrenched political party in the 2000 election. My consistent support for a particular third party is typically met with the rolling of the eyes and the robotic retort of “you’re wasting your vote”. That Guardian article implies that those 90,000,000 non-voters felt they would be wasting their vote on either established candidate. Which also implies that they, too, would want to have seen more than the two choices that were offered. The System, a force of darkness at this point, has rigged the game. It doesn’t care that it turns off as many voters than either major party can turn on. And to make things even darker, this corrupted System made it possible for a convicted felon and rapist, an insurrectionist, an incredibly unfit for office person to win the White House for a SECOND time!!

Keep in mind the System could only produce this morally bankrupt outcome if not for the other major party’s complicity. Why did the 2020 winner not immediately have its Justice Department arrest the treasonous, seditionist, insurrectionist? He should never have been eligible to run for the office he tried to illegally keep. This confounding fact also speaks to the 2024 election that offered someone who clearly is incompetently dangerous to the American public or the incumbent party that did not hold the convicted felon/rapist/insurrectionist to account..For critical thinkers, a non-starter.

We cannot control Mother Nature. Sadly, and almost irrefutably the System is seemingly also beyond our control. But only if we choose to think we do not have any ability to assert control. Supporting a rational, people-first third party is a start. Elect such alternate candidates from the bottom up. Vote out the practitioners of business as usual, quid pro quo and profit and greed over people and the planet.

I know, what a crazy idea. Is he dreaming? Get real. Blah blah. It looks pretty dark out there right now, try to use the soon to come added daylight to see more clearly a political pathway that also can become a brighter outlook on taking control of a System that is no longer a friend to humankind anywhere. The collateral damage of allowing this System to survive is also the matter of the planet we live on. What is more urgent a matter to demand a responsible form of leadership?

Allow me to invoke the title of one of Charles Bukowski’s books of poetry: The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over the Hills. Buk was a gritty, chain smoking wino who had his own special take on life and its penchant for bullshit. His writing is an acquired taste. Adult content, for sure. Not for the delicate flowers seeking soothing sonnets to satisfy a need for escape from the daily dulling of the senses here in late 2024.

I am not, gentle reader, using Bukowski as the main subject of this posting. That book’s title up there popped into my head (and its daily dulling) after looking at my digital calendar. A couple of recent writings on this platform used the “countdown” as their titles: Three Weeks, One Day; Two Weeks, Five Days. A countdown to a recent national election. This entry could be titled Seven Weeks, although I did not use that headline (as you might have noticed). Seven weeks is not a very long time. A long time would be from 2015 to right now. About ten years.

Yes, 10 years is much longer a period of time than seven weeks. Any ten year period is longer than a span of seven weeks. However, current events here in late 2024 connote–for many– the past 10 years in a very compelling, confounding, discombobulating way. It was in 2015 that a certain reality television persona decided he wanted to be President. And he became just that. Then he failed to be re-elected, followed by an attempted insurrection. Then another person became President. Then the guy who won, then lost, somehow crazy as it seems, is about to become Commander-in-Chief again. All of that covers the past decade. He will be sworn in as POTUS in exactly seven weeks. Or: 70,560 minutes (or so).

Wow, what a wild decade, huh? And given what the guy who lost, then recently won again, has planned for what follows those 70,560 minutes (see, I’m using that BIG number rather than just one 7 to provide the illusion of there being plenty of time to ruminate, speculate, plan and prepare for what is coming). What is coming? 😲 The loser/winner seems to be planning a demolition of the government he will be–so ironically!–sworn to protect on January 20, 2025. Or 7 weeks. Or 70,560 or now it maybe down to 70,510 minutes, which brings me back to how the days are tunning away like wild horses over the hills. Get it? Like it? Get it but don’t like it? Not one iota? Well, I am only trying to say that there is still time. For…

… for the guy who still is President to stop the demolition job the loser/winner has clearly planned (including seeking retribution for perceived enemies). And at this point, whomever may be reading this posting is saying “that’s not gonna happen”.  Not an unreasonable retort, given the current guy had every reason to ensure the winner/loser couldn’t win again by holding him to account. For starters, the attempted insurrection, caught on live television! And the Internet, for the world to see. The rioters were out for blood, for their loser who kept repeating “stop the steal!” a la Big Lie propaganda 101. How ironic, huh, since a certain Boomer generation can recall another poet, Gil-Scott-Heron, who penned a piece entitled The Revolution Will Not Be Televised back in 1970. Only almost 55 years ago. Indeed, those horses and those hills. But my point is current POTUS chose not to unleash his Justice Department on the man who played a clear part in the attempted overthrow of the government. Indeed, and beyond not holding him to account for that 1-6-2021 violation of the U.S. Constitution, he has been–Twilght Zone alert–let off the hook for almost three dozen felony convictions and a conviction (in civil court) of sexual assault. Yeah, in a mere 7 weeks our System is seemingly committing hari-kari, disemboweling itself rather than simply doing what the Constitution proclaims must be done given the evidence against the guy who wants to shove the Seppuku knife in and twist it. Is there no stopping this insanity? This betrayal of basic norms, of common decency? Of empathy. Absolutely unstoppable?

Literally, yes, there is a way, that being our current POTUS and the power he has, granted recently by the Supreme Court, to take just about any action he pleases, without penalty, as a sitting President. That ruling by the far-Right SCOTUS majority was directed at the loser guy about to be sworn in to enact his far Right wrecking ball agenda. Unwittingly, that ruling also applies to Mr. President the current, meaning he still could, with SCOTUS‘ approval (sweet irony, if he did so…) arrest the guy who wants to take that cleaver to the EPA, the Department of Education, the Energy Department and on and on. And on and on some more. Yes, current POTUS could use current SCOTUS ruling and save the 250 million or so people who did not vote for any of what is about to come. Hell, just today our current POTUS showed he is a man of action by pardoning his own son, also a convicted felon, and thus saving him from prison time. Oh sure, you are saying that is exactly the opposite of him holding that other felon to account. Well, that’s one way of looking at it. But not the only way. There are others who deserves a pardon. Who, you ask? How about those 250,000,000 people who did NOT vote for a political backwards march of time (most all of whom are working class), who enjoy clean air and water, education, healthcare, and the “common good”. They deserve protection from persecution based on race, ethnicity and the paranoid perception of being declared an enemy by the cleaver-wielding threat that looms just days away, days running away like those wild horses over those hills.

Just a thought.