Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow, but soon and forever.
Caption:
Dr. Jekyll times: Move all these critters from the “endangered species list” to “the endangered species to be hunted down like a moose” list
Mr. Hyde times: OOOoooops
Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow, but soon and forever.
Caption:
Dr. Jekyll times: Move all these critters from the “endangered species list” to “the endangered species to be hunted down like a moose” list
Mr. Hyde times: OOOoooops
A phenomenon exists that every man knows in heart and groin. It is a variant on a general phenomenon which is probably the phenomenon most responsible for the human condition or the result of it.
Eons before Longfellow, no pun intended, “and things are not what they seem” the more specific everyman phenomenon was writhing and thriving. I am beginning to see that everything IS INDEED what it seems — at SOME level of capture and perception.
Let’s look more at this general aspect before moving to the heart and groin coin. Maybe not the most accurate but I think the most apt example can be seen through “the devil comes as an angel of light” idea. Indeed this example of the general will also serve as the perfect sluice into the specific.
Currently, a commonly heard rhetoric, chiasmus I think, taking authority as truth, instead of taking truth as authority.
My life path has been a series of stepping stones stepped from and on to the next just before each previous stone sank out of thought beneath my nearly weightless stride and propelled a deft seeking, damp and diphthong chanting foot into my mouth — again. The pledge of allegiance at the beginning of the school day caused chills of loyalty and devotion to run up my spine. Today, as an analyst, I had to ask if that wide and aberrant pledge practice was not a slick inveigling, propagandistic foist used to condition the minds of innocent children to get their back chills from sentimentalism in place of fear.Turns out the pledge has had a stepping stone path of its own, twice through the supreme court, at least once through the presidential office and survived fifty eight years (until 1954) without the phrase “under God.” [http://history.vineyard.net/pledge.htm]
I grew up thinking something was special about the priest. Since I do not see any authority given by Jeezus to the person or practice of intercessor between human and God (and do not give me the Rock and Peter thing) I have to assume some ulterior motive exists for the existence of the church and the priest. The priest one is easy to figure out on a gross level. The “holy” church as intercessor is a little more difficult but, OK, that is probably because I understand sexual motivation and practices better than financial motivation and practices.
I grew up, OK, my bad, thinking medical people had some of that same holy water running through their blood the servant of God authorities had. How was I to be wise enough to reason that some others growing up were thinking that the important thing was golf and a pursuit of medical education would be rewarded by the quickest slickest tickets to country club foursomes and where better could a professional excuse be exploited to get on and off the green as needed? You know, should some one need medical help or authority somewhere.
And pardon me if I do not even mention the legal “profession.”
So, with those axioms to prompt understanding, see how easy it is to congeal into “things are not what they seem” blanket attitude.
Thinking from the specific generals back to the generally specific and the “devil comes as an angel of light” beam of thought I come to the holy mother pin head. My primary concern is that if some fall out occurs as a result of my thought and my trying to explain it to you, that the fall out should fall onto the whores instead of the holy mothers. Certainly and generally, over all the former is more appreciated than the latter.
The taint or tint begins closer to where the former becomes the latter or the latter exploits the techniques of the former. I cannot convey appropriately in a few words how much a “heart and groin” thing a man’s relationship is to the Holy Mother, or his mother. Every man wants to communicate with the mother of god in the grossest physical communicative intercourse. Every man’s mother is a representative icon of that desired ceremony.
Every mother some where inside desires to demonstrate through her son as good as it gets the complete and satisfying union of “man” and god.
Freud could say that much better and indeed has. And so have others. See the link list.
This is a think about it post. Read the post. Let things wonder around in your head.
Some environments are more suitable for learning some things than others. In Spain, a woman professional dedicated to her profession becomes as she rises and rises as she becomes more and more a holy mother figure. Her professional knowledge and ability, her management capacity, separates her, apotheosizes her into a realm of esteem closer to Mary the mother of God than a colleague. When perfect this reality is as perfect and real as it gets. When imperfect smells of imperfection seep out of the burning incense. Did you smell a beauty queen for just a moment? Perhaps a politician? Perhaps a brutal CEO? Did you hear a guillotine slice the salami? Is that femme fatale perfume wafting through?
You take it from here. Let me leave you with one question. Even though PalinTology is a very young very old science. Where would you place Sarah Palin in this post? Femme fatale? Holy Mother?
Tell me. Comment or subscribe and spill your beans here!
A few of many links.
Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow, but soon and forever.
Caption:
Dr. Jekyll times: Move all these critters from the “endangered species list” to “the endangered species to be hunted down like a moose” list
Mr. Hyde times: OOOoooops
Welcome to The Lit Bit. Most simply, The Lit Bit has two sides, a text side and a picture side.
Some say a picture is worth a thousand words. After forgetting the relative nature of that, if our eager hair (or hare) trigger avatar, Threepage (about a thousand words),cloned itself roughly 333 times, it would be a tome.
Our goal, at and/or as, is that Tome should way out weigh Threepage, over and over.
Enjoy.
We kick off this, the approximately seventh, incarnation of The Lit Bit with the standard first communication of a newborn digital entity, a kind of “is anybody out there?” thing. It is the software and internet communications equivalent of the first telegraph message asking a question I just must take the time to respond to someday. That first telegraph question was “what hath god wrought?” Of course. You know well I must have. More than once. Many times have I considered writing a song done in the voicing of the morse code tapping of that question. Textually, it would go “dit daw daw - dit dit dit dit - dit daw - daw — dit dit dit dit - dit daw - daw - dit dit dit dit — daw daw dit - daw daw daw - daw dit dit — dit daw daw - dit daw dit - daw daw daw - dit dit daw - dit dit dit dit - daw” and when I next update this post you will hear the morse.
Please comment on your way through The Byte. Yes, you do have to sign in but your email address is private and secure, and you help keep out the riff raff although, to be honest, we are not sure we could determine riff raff should we see it. We might just feel the effects enough to get depressed and irate and buy a super caliber bittermatic and shoot up the ram place looking for riff and raff.
Thanks,
Leger Demain (my friends say I am Lit)