Dark Minion of the Volunteers of Ministries of Scientology and Dianetics

Saturday, December 12, 2009

No Eternal Reward. No Karma Points.

I’ve been reading Richard Dawkin’s, God Delusion. And it’s made so much sense to me that I’ve decided to be an Atheist. I’ve decided to give up my former New-Age Buddhist beliefs. I don’t even think I can believe in Karma anymore…. Everything in fact, as much as I would like to believe it to be I have to weigh against if it’s just something I would like to be or if it really has any evidence.

A long time ago we were in San Diego, my family with my dad, and we were standing outside waiting for our name to be called to eat at The Old Spaghetti Factory. I gave some spare change to a homeless person and my dad got “all mad” at me. When we went inside my dad angrily pointed at a sign that read, “Don’t give money to beggars. It only encourages them.” – Or something to that effect. My dad has always had this issue w/the homeless… I almost want to say that I was raised w/the point of view that they deserve it because they earned it – but I don’t know if that’s a true memory or statement.

Yesterday, I ran out to the city to pick up Paige to bring her home for the weekend. She was starving. All she had eaten all day long was a brownie for breakfast. We were stuck in heavy traffic and ended up stopping at the Denny’s in Emeryville. I had a bacon cheddar cheeseburger and walked out of Denny’s feeling fat, dumb, and happy. I had walked out ahead of Paige to have a cigarette and a short distance from my car was a homeless man with a sign and his dog.

I went to my car and lit up and looked back over at the man and his dog… and his sign. And all the words of my father and that Old Spaghetti Factory sign were playing in my head. And I don’t know what came over me but I took a dollar out of my back pack and walked over and handed it to him. He was so damn dirty I was afraid that our hands would touch. He just burst out, “God bless you”. I said, “Good luck” and walked away quickly.

Then, I went back and offered him a cigarette and a light… and before I knew it I struck up a conversation with him. He told me that he was hoping to catch a train and make his way to Redmond. I was overwhelmed at his openness, how intelligently he spoke, and how dirty he was…

Before we left I went back and handed him another cigarette and my lighter. “I have lots of lighters.”

I didn’t do that for Karma points or because of a belief in God. Before I gave him that dollar I had looked at him and thought of myself. What if that was me? Who would help me and why should they help me?

What if that was all that Jesus and the Buddha taught? No eternal reward. No Karma points. You just help people because (fill in the blank).

Still - I choked back tears on the drive home thinking that where that man is – is where the middle class of the United States is heading. Here’s a fucking dollar for your troubles. Good luck.

Dj

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Thursday, March 05, 2009

Connections

I was digging thru my CD cabinet this evening and uncovered the self titled CD; Mother Love Bone.  This discovery took me back to my early days in the Coast Guard.  But first; before I went to the EAP in 06, I visited the Psyche Doctor on Coast Guard Island about my …um, unease…  Some ancient Auxiliarist serving as the Medical Psyche.  He basically said that I wasn’t breathing deeply enough and told me to get my shit together and get back to work.  I later read his report about me which said something to the effect; subject speaks tangentially…  Anyway, where was I?  Oh, Mother Love Bone CD made me remember my early days in the Coast Guard when stationed aboard my second 378, the Coast Guard Cutter Mellon. 

 

So, there I was - a young third class QM inspecting a berthing area (supposedly – more likely inspecting porn) when Beau Wooten walks in w/a new member reporting aboard; “Dave, this is Jon …”  I cannot remember Jon’s last name.  “Jon, this is Dave Jenkins.  He’s a Third Class”.  Jon literally responded with a deliberate F.U. burp.  Beau thought this was HIGH-LARIOUS.  After a second of being caught off guard - I responded by laughing.  Beau and I talked a little and Jon just looked completely bored and wanting to get on with it. 

 

A couple patrols go by.  Jon does the mess cook thing - rotates to breaking in on the bridge and back into mess cooking.  Every pay check Jon gets a new tattoo; fairies, mushrooms, wizards, trolls… He’s all into the book, “The Illustrated Man” … and Jane’s Addiction; dresses like every day is Lollapalooza, and lives w/the member’s of a local Seattle band.  One day away from homeport waiting on the liberty van some old fart MK1 asshole tries to give Seaman Apprentice Jon shit, says, “I wouldn’t be caught dead in those shoes.”  I’m all tense (so uncharacteristic, huh?).  On the one hand, I have to admit, Jon’s shoes are like nothing I’ve ever seen.   On the other, I’ve always avoided this MK1 shithead myself.  He always prides himself on messing with newbies.  Cool as a cucumber, Jon replies, “That’s why I’m wearing them.”  The MK1 is taken back a moment and then gives a short chuckle and offers his hand.  Jon is my hero. 

 

BTW – this was back in the days of the Coast Guard’s first and last Coast Guard Harpoon missile launch off the front of a Coast Guard 378.  Guess where I was for that historical moment?  As the boot QM3, I was laying on my back manning aft steering.  Ahh… the smell of harpoon missile!!! I’ll never fo… I can’t really remember what that smelled like.

 

Anyway… Jon.  Lollapalooza clothes, Jane’s Addiction blaring out of his VW-Van, tattoos… always making jokes about dropping LSD into the juice machines in the galley.  Then -  The next day right,  we’re getting underway for an Alpat and Jon takes all his clothes home “to wash them”.  AWOL.  When we pull back into Seattle he’s waiting at the pier we three short rocker looking dudes.  He does his restriction and gets kicked out.

 

During his restriction I queried him; he related that he was living w/members of rock band; Mother Love Bone

 

I later picked up Mother Love Bone’s self titled album and noted an advertisement for one of their show’s on the front cover at “The Central Tavern” on First Street in Seattle.  That’s the place where I got my alcohol incident for attempting to enter w/a fake ID on the day I made third class – October of 89.

 

Not sure exactly when – after the lead singer of MLB overdosed on heroin, the band picked up Eddie Vedder and became Pearl Jam.

 

Dave J

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mother_Love_Bone

 

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Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Bruce Ivans – The Movie (in Zelig’s head)

Bruce Ivans – The Movie (in Zelig’s head)

"This ain't no party, this ain't no disco, this ain't no foolin around"

A way slimmed down Phillip Seymour Hoffman plays Ivins… In a flashback Ivins is talking w/his female psychiatrist about his anger at Congress for not allotting enough test monkeys for his research. Pushing his glasses up his nose a glassy-eyed and bit – I mean; pushing his Versace designer eye-glasses up the BRIDGE of his nose a glassy-eyed and bitter Ivins looks away from his psychiatrist and mumbles, “If Congress won’t give me monkeys I’ll make monkeys out of them.” A bemused “in on the joke” psychiatrists repeats, “Monkey’s of Congress”. Suddenly Ivin’s turns on his psychiatrist, staring thru her, speaking in a dead, um… deadly dead pan voice, “And if you dare repeat a word of this to anyone, you had better be very VERY careful about opening your mail.”

The two stare at each other in uncomfortable silence for a moment before the scene cuts away to the present where the psychiatrist has just finished relating her story to the very serious, very serious business suit FBI agents. FBI agent (described in credits as FBI agent No. 1, aka Waldo) asks, “Why didn’t you inform us of this seven years ago? You could have saved the lives of five innocent American Citizens. You will have to live with this for the rest of your life.” A downtrodden psychiatrist (FBI code name, “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”; Lucy for short.) and an overbearingly serious FBI type dude stare at each other in uncomfortable silence for a moment before the scene cuts away to sometime in the past…

… Where Ivins is in his study looking all creepy (You know, all professional and scientific looking by day – and all creepy and evil schemy looking at night behind a locked door in his study – And all those many years poor Mrs. Ivins never knows) and cutting out words and letters from magazines and taping them to envelopes…. Having liberally treated himself w/his own “cure” he tests a sample of each pile of anthrax w/his tongue before sprinkling the deadly dose of spores into the carefully prepared envelopes…

Cut to the government official… (because this is one of those jumpy hard to follow movies that goes all Oliver Stone JFK / Nixon or maybe David Lynch Mulholand Drive “designed” to make you more confused at the end of the movie than you were coming in so the critics say, “This is one that will leave you thinking long after the curtains close. Two thumbs up!”)… The government official reads the above to the press and its “sold” as the official story… Cut to Ivins lying silently on his bed as the camera pans over to a giant prescription bottle of Tylenol-Codeine… fade out for several seconds…

Open to video archive from the early days of the Bush administration (OMG ~ So 2000)… And then it all gets too weird and convoluted for even me to put together… A secret meeting at the Bush ranch complete w/sinister wealthy influential personages, drunken debauchery, strippers, Bush doing lines of coke and Cheney pointing his rifle at anything that moves… After several days of this they finally settle down for the lets kick out Saddam so we can get at the Iraqi National Museums to obtain the Extraterrestrial Mesopotamia dawn of civilization documents and artifacts ~ TOP SECRET MEETING ~ and both Bush and Cheney have one hell of a hangover.

See where this is going? Oh… It’s time for Coast to Coast AM…

[(Commercial Sponsor Break)

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Left on the cutting room floor a tipsy moment w/a grinning cowboy hat/boots and city-slicker business suited G dubbya ~ his arm around an awkward in heels Condalleezza Rice’s waist.

Following the “ABOVE TOP SECRET MEETING (I forgot to mention that earlier, i.e. “Above” Top Secret) a wild-eyed coked-out Bush pleads, “Talk to me Rovey! I don’t know anything about space saucers and little green men from Mars. Why would we go to Iraq for anything but oil?”

In an inexplicable it’s a small world after-all scene (it doesn’t mean anything but it’s provocative); Bruce Ivan’s mysterious GOP connections are revealed as he and Mark Foley (R-Fla.) share a secret (above secret ~ below top secret) Washington DC residence w/three MIA page-boys (presumed runaways) chained in the basement aka “Love Nest” aka “Dungeon” aka “Anthraxagon”. The boys are forced to eat fast food and dress in drag complete w/dresses and makeup as Ivans and Foley attempt to play out some sick and twisted Monica Lewinsky sex fantasy. The movie didn’t want to go there but it had to go there because… well, truth is stranger than fiction. (They later claim they thought the boys were having fun, too.) In a corner of the dungeon locked away in a Cobalt ES-031D fireproof safe is a (Thirty-Three Degree) Mason jar holding the DNA of one John Edwards to be used to produce an army of clone/love children, one inflatable love doll, fuzzy handcuffs, pictures of Ann Coulter (who can figure that? Sick Bastards), and video evidence (very convincing look-alikes) ~ combination affixed to the outside to be opened in case of emergency ONLY… You can’t just make this stuff up, people.


Nancy Pelosi’s Multi-Culti-Liberal-Progressive-Tree-Hugging-Hollywood-Crowd Mafia (Including Hillary & Bill Clinton, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Ted Kennedy, Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, and Gavin Newsom) wanted me to drop one more name in my movie; John McCain. “They” wanted a scene w/a Pre-GOP nominated John McCain rubbing a balloon on his head to build up a static charge for good luck… But I told them that while not actually aiming at factuality I’m also not trying to put my audience to sleep. Sorry Multi-Culti-Liberal-Progressive-Tree-Hugging-Hollywood-Crowd Mafia. But I’m nobody’s B.

Special mention to Woody Allen.


….



Prologue:

-----Original Message-----
From: David [mailto:djenkins@zeligx.com]
Sent: Friday, August 01, 2008 6:26 PM
To: 'bcapple@aol.com'; Swatland, David. J. (David.J.Swatland@uscg.mil); 'David. J.'; MARY JENKINS; Jenkins, Stephen (stevejenkins_74@hotmail.com)
Subject: Interesting - Bruce E. Ivans

I was just doing a web search on Bruce E. Ivans and came across the following;

From Bump Shack
“Where the news always bumps”
http://www.bumpshack.com/2008/08/01/anthrax-scientist-bruce-e-ivins-commits-suicide/


Post from “armillary”, August 01, 2008, 6:12

I believe that time will tell that Ivins was a conservative pawn, enlisted by nutcase neocons bent on ousting Saddam Hussein from power in Iraq. The anthrax was likely prepared by Ivins and sent to make it look like agents of the Iraqi government did it, to invent a case for invading Iraq. The timing was amazingly bad though, because in between the time the anthrax was mailed and arrived at its intended victims, the 9/11 attacks occurred. But rather than suggest the possibility that Saddam’s government might have sent the anthrax, which many would have certainly believed, the Bush administration played down the anthrax attacks and used other flimsy evidence in its rush to war. Why? Because the anthrax attacks were a clumsy attempt by nutcase neocons from Maryland trying to play patriot and give the Bush administration the justification it wanted to invade Iraq. Any serious investigation would have quickly unraveled this cheap black bag job. Ultimately I believe Roscoe Bartlett (R-MD), who represents Ivins district, knows more than he has said and should be questioned in this matter.


This was in response to the following;

Scientist Bruce E. Ivins is believed to have committed the terrorist attacks via the mail using deadly anthrax back in 2001. The federal government was about to file charges against Ivins for the mailed attacks. Ivins has now killed himself according to Fox News.
The scientist, Bruce E. Ivins, 62, who worked for the past 18 years at the government’s biodefense labs at Fort Detrick, Md., had been told about the impending prosecution, the Los Angeles Times reported for Friday editions. The laboratory has been at the center of the FBI’s investigation of the anthrax attacks, which killed five people.
Ivins died Tuesday at Frederick Memorial Hospital in Maryland. The Times, quoting an unidentified colleague, said the scientist had taken a massive dose of a prescription Tylenol mixed with codeine.
Tom Ivins, a brother of the scientist, told The Associated Press that another of his brothers, Charles, told him Bruce had committed suicide.
Ivins was an expert on anthrax inhalation and had published many papers on the topic. He was a leading expert in the field.
He saved the government a lot of time and money by taking his own life. He was a coward in life and was in taking his life as well.


Hmm ??? ~ I love a good conspiracy theory ~ I’m sure this will be discussed ad-nauseam on Coast to Coast AM (The place where insomniacs hang out).

Zelig X





Epilogue:

Just have to add; On the one hand, it’s the classical conspiracy theme where the otherwise top of his game leading government scientist researching vaccines and cures for anthrax exposure; employed at the Army's biological warfare defense labs at Fort Detrick, Md. For THIRTY-FIVE YEARS (OR - Fourteen years via other media sources) is set up by the evil government conspirators to be revealed as an unstable homicidal scientist hell bent on … uh (winding down) … bending hell… On the other hand, if the government was in on the joke in the first place and given that the American public had pretty much forgotten about the anthrax incidents anyway… Why did “they” continue to pursue it all these years ~ Only to potentially bring something to light that they would (winding down again) rather leave in (this is lame) the… dark (?) …

Something about a razor… Ockham??? Well, it’ll make for a good movie someday




Cast of characters (and/or dropped names/products) (in order of appearance)

Zelig X – Freelance journalist, birthday party cowboy for hire
The Talking Heads (Life During Wartime)

Bruce Ivans, aka "I have enough anthrax to take out every living organism in the state of Rhode Island but this bottle of Tylenol-Codeine goes so much better with milk and pepsi" Ivans
Phillip Seymour Hoffman
Bruce Ivan's female Psychiatrist
Gianni Versace reference
Beatle's reference
Congress, Monkeys, Gumint O-fficials, Waldo, FBI Agents
Five DEAD innocent American Citizens
Mrs. Ivins
Oliver Stone
JFK
Nixon
David Lynch
Ebert & Roeper reference
Bush Administration
Bush Ranch
Strippers
Coca-Cola
Sinister wealthy influential personages, aka Illuminati, aka Masonic Order, aka Bohemian Grove, aka skull and crossbones, aka Bilderburgs, aka Microsoft
George "dubbya" Bush, aka (your sentiment here)
Cheney, Dick (one each), Big Man w/a gub, Dead Eye Dick's Gun Club; http://www.dickcheneygunclub.com/
Saddam Hussein (RIP)
Coast to Coast AM – Art, George, Ian
Condalleezza Rice
Carl Rove
Little Green Men from Mars, aka LGMFM
Disneyland reference, Disney [Ticker symbol: DIS]
Mark Foley (R. Fla.)
Monica Lewinsky, aka
"Hot Lips" Houlihan
John Edwards
John Edward's clone/love child (army)
Ann Coulter [vomit – oh yeah, I forgot to mention our (other) commercial sponsors; Pepto Bismol and Tylenol]
… I'm tired …
Nancy Pelosi
The Bill and Hillary (Clinton)
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure (aka Keanu Reeves)
Ted Kennedy
Michelle Obama
Oprah Winfrey
Gavin "Any two-some" Newsom
John McCain
Woody Allen

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Sunday, October 07, 2007

The Download Festival

Aidee and I just returned home from the Download Festival at the Shoreline Amphitheatre in Mountain View, Ca. Although the concert began at One, we did not arrive until a little after Four. After the 60 mile drive to the Shoreline, we were both thirsty. Aidee purchased a four dollar bottle of water and I bought a six dollar 32oz Sprite.

Beverages in hand, we strolled into the Amphitheatre and were shocked to find that despite our own admitted tardiness, the Amphitheatre was filled to just over a third capacity.

We found our seats, 28 and 29 respectively in Section 203, Row N, and enjoyed the last couple of songs performed by She Wants Revenge. She Wants Revenge was the third band to perform. For the life of me, I cannot at this moment recall the names of the first two bands we missed. Oh well. I'm old; by the end of the concert, my dogs were barkin'.




Following their set, She Wants Revenge front man, Justin Warfield, expressed his band's gratitude for the privilege of being a part of the Download Festival.

Next up, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, commonly referred to as, BRMC, commandeered the stage and rocked the house. Aidee remarked, “The singer is handsome”. Hmm… BRMC has two singers; so either Peter Hayes or Robert Levon Been must die.

After BRMC finished their set I left my seat in search of the restroom and returned with a ten dollar "large" Fat Tire. By the time I returned to my seat the Amphitheatre had nearly filled to capacity; as the sun set, a rush of adrenaline brought the audience to their feet cheering as Bay Area natives, AFI, took the stage.

Despite a technical problem at the beginning of their performance (lead singer Davey Havoc was having problems w/the feedback to his headset), AFI put on a phenomenal show. Notwithstanding the fact that any Bay Area band performing in a major Bay Area venue is going to receive love and adoration; Davey Havoc was confident on stage and connected easily with the audience. Between sets he spoke to the audience at one point stating that although it was a chilly night, seeing the audience standing and singing along made the band feel warm and welcome. Towards the end of their performance, Havoc announced that this would be their last concert for awhile as they would be going to the studio to produce a new album.

Following AFI and my ten dollar “large” Fat Tire I went in search of the restroom and more refreshments. It occurred to me that I could save a lot of money by waiting until after the concert for food and beer and walked back over to our seats. I asked Aidee if she was sure that she wanted something to eat and she promptly handed me fifteen dollars for Nachos. So, I was walking towards the food court when all of a sudden a false start from the stage sent the audience into excitement. Suddenly I was walking upstream against a crowd hurrying to return to their seats; a crazed young woman smiling up at me from her wheelchair nearly ran me over… I pressed forward; nachos/beer, nachos/beer, nachos/beer…

Despite fighting the crowd and standing in line, I returned to my seat w/plenty of time for Aidee and I to finish our giant order of seven dollar nachos and make a considerable dent in my 8 dollar Miller Genuine Draft (To think that for only two dollars more, I could have enjoyed a frosty Sierra Nevada Pale Ale).

The Cure took the stage opening appropriately enough with “Open” off their 1992 album, Wish. My oldest CD by The Cure is Seventeen Seconds and it occurred to me that this album came out when I was only ten years old back in 1979. Earlier in the day, Aidee and I had stopped for lunch at the Buttercup where in our excitement we remarked to our waitress that we were on our way to a concert. When she brought us our check she remarked, “Enjoy the concert” and asked, “Who are you going to see?” “The Cure”, I replied and she just stood there with a blank expression. How in the hell could someone not have heard of The Cure? “They’ll be performing with AFI”, I quickly added. Her face brightened up in recognition…

So there we were…a cross generational moment; adults my age, parents with their children, older teenagers, and twenty-something year olds. I poked Aidee with my elbow and nodded towards three twenty-something year old males that were singing along and waving their arms in the air. Aidee laughed and said, “You’re getting old. You were the same way.”

I thought back to when I was seventeen and remembered that I had once thought The Cure a namby-pamby flash in the pan sort of band. But here I was 21 years later and The Cure was proving not only did they still have it; they have always had it. In short, The Cure rocks; they blasted the audience w/blazing guitars in CD quality and after all these years, Robert Smith still has his unique voice.

The Cure performed for approximately two and a half hours w/two encores. The first finish followed the appropriately titled song, “End”, again off their 1992 album, Wish. Of course the audience stood their ground, waiting for the encore. I leaned over to Aidee and said, “The concert is not over until they play ‘The Forest’”. I’m not sure how many more songs they played but they hadn’t played “The Forest” when Robert Smith once again said, “Thank you”, and the band laid down their instruments and walked off the stage. Some of the audience was already moving to the exit. Aidee had that excited “beat the crowd” look about her and I leaned over and said again, “The concert is not over until they play ‘The Forest’”. We stood still and a few minutes later The Cure returned to the stage. They played a couple more sets finishing with all time crowd pleaser, “The Forest” off their 1979 album, Seventeen Seconds. The Concert was over. An exhausted and humble Robert Smith spoke to the crowd and promised that he would see us again next year.

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Friday, September 29, 2006

Welcome to Dark Minion

























Population: 1

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Friday, September 01, 2006

Fear Movie - The Presentation

The Presentation

Scene 1 - Opening

Setting:

Coast Guard Sector San Francisco YBI Galley, All Hands Training

Third Wednesday of the month, 9:00 AM

Audience of 150 Coasties

Host: “Funny anecdote”

Audience: “Laughing”

Host: “Ok”, “The first presentation this morning will be ‘Information Security’ from Chief Jenkins.”

As I rise from my chair, my heart is pounding and I feel as if I’m moving in slow motion, inspecting every move that I make.

As I make my way to the front of the room, I hear the voice of the Deputy Commander of Coast Guard Sector San Francisco as if from a distance, he is talking about “Information Security”, effectively stealing my thunder.

When I arrive at the front of the stage I am struggling to appear calm. As I look out upon the audience, I stutter, “Wow, tough act to follow… huh” I suddenly notice a smear on the right lens of my glasses. I attempt to calmly remove my glasses in a natural motion and rub the lens on my shirt. I replace my glasses and notice that I have worsened the smear. I can’t see out my right eye ~ !

I remove the glasses again (forgetting to act calm and natural) and fog the right lens with my breath. I then (fighting anxiety now) MASH the lens against my shirt… too hard. The lens pops out… bounces off the table onto the floor and as it rolls behind me I whirl around w/cat-like grace and agility and … stomp on the lens to stop its roll…

<BOO: “What a tard ~ !” Maniacal laughter.>

After picking up the smeared and now freshly scraped lens, I look up at the audience and fighting to sound calm and good natured state, “Wow, that’s embarrassing” .

Suddenly, someone in the audience stands up and says, “Chief, I’ll get you some tape”, and bolts for the door… I ask aloud in a befuddled voice, “Tape?”

This is a movie mind you. The film has the quality of a grainy low budget B movie from the 70’s. Piano music promising a sad tale begins as a static picture of me looking horrified and pasty appears on the screen. The title of the film rolls out across the static picture: The Presentation, starring Chief David Jenkins.

The next image is a static picture of “the wrong person to help me” bolting for the door. Co-starring, THIS DWEEB.

I know that it will take this guy at least EIGHT MINUTES to find tape and I will have to make small talk w/the audience until my glasses are fixed. Imagine me trying to decide whether to talk w/the audience blind or talk with the audience wearing a pair of glasses missing a lens…

The next static image is that of the audience with looks upon their faces ranging from embarrassment to glee… The following rolls across the static picture: “Written and Directed by BOO

Back to moving picture… Me, nervous and pasty faced, wearing the glasses w/a missing lens. “Stutter, stumble, bumble… incoherence… mom…?”

Static picture of a member in the audience looking bored and eating a snickers bar. “Produced by BOO”, rolls across the image.

Back to moving picture… Audience. Ordinarily very serious people actually snorting laughs… snickering… some hiding their smiles behind their hands… Some staring at me in morbid fascination…

Next static image… Back of the room. Somebody’s back is covered w/the soda somebody shot out their nose… “Based on a BOO story”, rolls across the image.

Next static image… Me. W/out glasses looking the way people who wear coke bottle glasses look when they aren’t wearing their glasses… PLUS… confused, horrified, and defeated… Maybe displaying a nervous tick, just for fun ~ ! “A BOO Films Production” rolls across the image.

Back to moving picture… The dweeb MADLY going thru drawers looking for tape… All the while humming a dweebish little “I’m helping” tune to himself… Dweeb. This plays out for awhile… as we get to enjoy seeing him rummage through drawers and hum his little tune…

Next static image… Me. Looking extremely confident, happy, glasses intact, triumphant, appearing to be pontificating to the audience… Image fades out along w/finale of despairing piano music… black…

Abruptly - The dweeb rushes back into the galley. “Chief, I found some tape”, he says proudly as he displays a standard roll of 2” wide duct tape…

Scene 2 – The Calm Before The Storm

Abruptly - The dweeb rushes back into the galley. “Chief, I found some tape”, he says proudly as he displays a standard roll of 2” wide duct tape…

Someone is tugging at the sleeve of my jacket, tugging me back into reality.

In reality: I’m giving my presentation last. I’m still not over this fact; that I’m last. An hour into all hands training and the second speaker is met with applause as she completes her presentation on what I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. I had been reviewing my disaster movie and squirting myself with adrenaline.

A junior member of the Coast Guard sitting next to me quits tugging on my sleeve and leans over to whisper, “That was interesting… I didn’t know …. Did you know?” I force a smile, nod, and absent mindedly respond as I pat my right pocket for the Nth time to make sure I brought my back-up pair of glasses and mentally calculate how much longer I have to hold my opening lines in my mind… One more speaker until I’m up…

I dose myself with adrenaline for like the tenth time since I woke up this morning. I attempt to count ceiling tiles but can’t seem to get past the fourth one as I am constantly interrupted to nod at the chatty young person sitting next to me who is continuing to speak wondrously on the ponderous nature of the last speaker. Oh God, he’s asking me a question now. What am I looking at on the ceiling, he wants to know.

What am I looking at on the ceiling? My mind turns this question over a moment. Too long. I’ve got to get away from this kid he is making me crazy. I say that I need to get a drink of water. So, I get up and slug my way down the aisle of seated audience members – finally breaking free, proceed to the water dispenser. My mind is racing a hundred miles an hour and I can’t seem to grasp that the thing I am looking for is sitting right in front of me… A cup, I’m looking for a cup – A G-D CUP! I need a cup to put water in like any other normal sane relaxed human being that gets up and gives presentations on “Information Security”. Which reminds me to rehearse my opening lines… forget the rest of the presentation… I just have to confidently deliver my opening lines. I can’t remember what my opening lines are and I don’t know why I’m standing there staring at a stack of paper cups. G-D paper cups ~ ! I reach for one in slow motion and shakily hold it under the water dispenser… I take a sip and dribble a little down my chin… Absentmindedly wipe my chin with my jacket cuff.

In the background I hear the next speaker beginning their presentation. I turn holding my cup of water in a trembling hand, pretending to be in attentive listening mode. As I finish my water it occurs to me that I need to visit the restroom. I don’t want to have to hold it through my presentation and I certainly don’t want to call attention to myself by walking in and out of the restroom when I’m up – NEXT. But to get to the restroom I have to walk to the front of the room and past the present speaker. The galley is filled to capacity, not enough chairs and those who arrived late are standing on the sides. And I’m the only person in the room walking about, making my way as inconspicuously as possible to the restroom.

I reach the sanctuary of the restroom and lock the door behind me… I look into the mirror and the horror of my situation washes over me… I’m a nervous wreck. I watch my face to see if the nervous tic is real or imagined. My eyes look wild from adrenaline. There is a rule in the Coast Guard about public speaking. You must always remove your jacket so the audience can see the glory of the ribbons proudly displayed upon your chest… or something. I don’t have to remove my jacket for inspection to know that the armpits of my shirt are drenched… “Why did I not hide a spare shirt and undershirt in the restroom?” I ask myself. Of course, at this moment I remember to pat my right pocket to insure that I brought my spare glasses. I finish my business and then linger a moment longer… I attempt to cortical shift. I take a deep breath and begin to count, “One, two, … I hope the speaker didn’t finish already. What if they’re looking for me?”

“Stop”, I say. Deep breathe and begin to count again… Repeat. Count ceiling tiles.

I slowly pull open the restroom door and listen for the present speaker… I quickly move out of the restroom and hide behind a wall near the door to the galley… Here I can hear the present speaker and continue with my cortical shifting…

I could sure go for a Zantac about now. Washed down with a shot of vodka followed by a beer chaser.

Since this is an ABC After School Special we take a commercial break>

Scene 3 - The Belly Of The Beast

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Saturday, April 08, 2006

The older I get...

The older I get, the more it seems to me that I look like my grandpa Jim. The funny thing is... he was my step-grandfather... Hmm... What's up with that?

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Sunday, December 25, 2005

Christmas Again

Sunday, December 25, 1994

Christmas Again

Christmas Again. Like all the Christmas’s before. Like the flicker of a candle, a second hand’s path across a clock. A moment among moments, if only for a moment. A friend among friends, like all dear friends before. Like flannel shirts on cold days, a second hand present from an older brother. Comfort for the present, if only for a moment. The comfort of dear Friends and Christmas alone brings presents among the many presents, if only for a moment. Like the flicker of a candle, a second hand’s path across a clock. A day among days. Days go by and it’s Christmas again. Christmas again. Like all the Christmas’s before.

Zelig X
94

...

"I'm on the Karma payment plan... "
Karma's Payment
Modest Mouse

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Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Here's a fun fact

My 1992 Honda Accord has traveled in 13.75 years the distance light travels in one second; 186,000 miles.

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Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Zelig X

How I acquired my online name, Zelig X.
Based on a true story.

The year was 1997. The year Princess Diana died in a tragic car accident.

...

My first online name was DJenkins555. What I really really wanted though was, ToasterOven. However, that screen name was already taken and if memory serves, my investigations revealed it was owned by an AOL administrator ~ one of those TOS guys, I think.

So, for awhile I was simply DJenkins555. Zelig X was born in an AOL chat room.

...

I haven't been to chat rooms in years, so I'm not sure what the landscape of chat rooms is like today. Prior to the Internet explosion of the mid-nineties, only a select group of Tech Geeks had been using message boards and chat rooms where they talked about things like; bits, bytes, motherboards, kick-ass 14 bit modems, and of course, Star Trek. By 97 though, the year I finally surrendered to my inner-Geek and took the plunge, buying a low end computer for three times what a good one goes for now and got online on the then, Flagship of the Internet, AOL already had seemingly hundreds of chat rooms catering to every interest under the sun.

I remember my first timid forays into the world of AOL chat rooms. Then as now, I had an interest in Buddhism. In those days, it was more of a fledgling appreciation and I was drawn to the Buddhist room to seek greater understanding and fellowship. What I found instead was three or four jack-asses posing as sages trying to out-Buddha each other and twenty-four other jack-asses witnessing for the Lord Jesus Christ, “All you Buddhists are going to hell”.

But, I was young. I didn’t know any better. I entered the fray and became jack-ass Buddhist sage number 5, or more precisely, jack-ass Buddhist sage, DJenkins555,

DJenkins555: All is mind; hell is a projection of your mind
Hak: ASL: 14, F, Chicago
JCisRisen: You’re going to burn in hell DJ
JokoLondo: Jojo Lapa
ToasterOven: that’s a TOS violation JC, this is a Buddhist chat room
TheFatGuy: Any chicks in here wanna cyber?
DJenkins555: It’s ok Toaster. JC is speaking from a place of fear. I like your screen name, can I have it?
Hak: Let’s go FatGuy
JCisRisen: You’re gonna burn in a ToasterOven for all eternity DJ
Nepalesekid: My people say something different, Joko

In time, (like a week – but a week on the Internet was like a year – NewAgeGeek once told me that.) I branched out from Buddhist chat and ventured into the Born Again Room. I was looking for a fight.

But I digress. This whole thing is a digression, really. So, once again, I digress. I set out to tell you how I got my online name, Zelig X.

...

Way way back in 91 when I was stationed onboard the Coast Guard Cutter Mellon, the Cutter Mellon made the second U.S. Coast Guard visit to Russia. We traveled twelve days each way for a four day visit to Vladivostok, Russia. In Vladivostok, I made a friend, Dennis (Denoc) who I remain in contact with to this day. Shortly after my visit to Russia, Dennis sent me a book by Tolstoy, Peter the Great. I developed an interest in Russian culture and in 93, checked out, War and Peace, also by Leo Tolstoy, from the Corpus Christi public library.

Still with me? Ok, stay close. … And then, like a mutating bird flu virus, my interest jumped species. One day in the local video store, I came across Woody Allen’s, Love and Death, and realized that it was an obvious take-off of, War and Peace. Prior to this, I despised the nerdy black horn-rimmed glasses little man. Had I not read, War and Peace, I wouldn’t have looked twice, much less have checked out the video. In short, I discovered Woody Allen was a genius of comical proportions and it was off to the races. Over the next couple of years, I checked out every Woody Allen movie I could find in the video stores.

Enter Zelig:

Plot Summary for
Zelig (1983)

Fictional documentary about the life of human chameleon Leonard Zelig, a man who becomes a celebrity in the 1920s due to his ability to look and act like whoever is around him. Clever editing places Zelig in real newsreel footage of Woodrow Wilson, Babe Ruth, and others.


The name, "Zelig" was perfect for chat rooms, because in a chat room, you can effect to be whomever or whatever you want, i.e. Buddhist sage, Born Again X-tian, fourteen year old girl, Dave Mathews Band Fan, Sox Fan, Trekkie Tech Geek, ... um, just kidding about the Dave Mathews Band Fan thing... uh... you're not a private investigator, are you? Did I say something... ? ? ? Um... Really, that was Hak, scroll back up...

Anyway,

As to the X part; In 1997, I was 28 and held a strong and urgent sense of my generation, Generation X, coming into it’s own. Although back then, I liked to tell people in chat rooms that it was after my hero, Malcolm X.

...

And, that’s how I got my online name; Zelig X

However, ToasterOven, if you're out there, I still want your name. You rule, buddy.


ToasterOven



Princess Diana



The year was 1997



Buddha



Zelig



Malcolm X



Nature Valley Granola Bar



Now it all makes sense

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Sunday, September 11, 2005

Who is Nat Sherman?

In a dank and smoky oxygen-deprived corner of my mind (not entirely unlike the other corners), I have come to identify Nat Sherman cigarettes as the cigarettes romantically portrayed in the political-philosophical-intellectual diatribes thinly disguised as "novels" of Ayn Rand (1905 - 1982), of whom my brother, you know, the PhD psychologist, once responded in writing to my Atlas Shrugged charged email, "Oh god, you mean, that capitalist apologist pig, blah blah blah...", or something to that effect.

All pseudo-political-philosophical-intellectual hyperbole aside, I think that if you reduce Ayn Rand's writings down to the romanticism of smoking, Nat Sherman's fit the bill.

... Yeah... I think that... Hmm...

Well, anyway, thanks for allowing me to waste another fifteen seconds of your life.

Nat Sherman

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Saturday, September 03, 2005

Only in California...

Only in California can you buy a home in the ghetto for half a million dollars.

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Friday, September 02, 2005

What really matters.

?

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Thursday, August 04, 2005

My Religious Beliefs

Many of you have enquired as to my Religious beliefs. To set the record
straight, I am first and foremost a Graphite. I worship a stuffed teddy
bear. Secondly, I am a teleological existentialist with Buddhist leanings;
meaning I believe there is a certain divine intelligence to the universe
with the exception of certain parts of California including Berkeley, Sacramento, and San Francisco.

So there you go.

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Saturday, June 11, 2005

Dark Minion Newsflash!

This is not an "A Class" blog!

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Thursday, June 02, 2005

Dark Minion's One Year Anniversary

That's right folks, Dark Minion of the Volunteers of Ministries of Scientology and Dianetics is celebrating its one year anniversary! And what a year it has been.

This past year we saw Benjamin Creme live at the Palace of Fine Arts Theatre in San Francisco, saw the sights in Yosemite National Park, made inroads to the Ornithological Society, named our blog after a popular American cult, attended the United States Coast Guard Chief's Academy in Petaluma, Ca., transferred to a new job, registered as Libertarians, acquired another cat, fried a computer or two, mastered the majestic ski slopes of Boreal, bought a beautiful new home and moved to a new town, built a shed w/microwave oven instructions, hiked to the summit of Mt. Diablo, went wine tasting in the Napa Valley and passed out drunk on the couch...

Ahh, the life is good here at Dark Minion. So, here's to another year of C Class Blogging!

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Monday, March 14, 2005

Random Thoughts

"Against boredom even the gods contend in vain"
Nietzsche

...

I was thinking about how the War in Iraq looks / sounds a lot like the ever war of 1984. "War on Terror" sounds a lot like "War is Peace."

Remember how they started making candy bars smaller because that's what the consumer really wanted? Both in Orwell's book & real life.

I know I'm jumping books, but I need me some Soma!

A gram in time saves nine,
Zelig X

war on terror, Orwell was a crank...and so was that Nietzsche... soma... ha!

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Thursday, December 23, 2004

Tabby

Our new kitten, Tabby, stinks...bad.

All of my music has been converted to MP3's on an old notebook connected to the home stereo. Tabby recently designated this notebook as her perch.

Today, I went for a bike ride across Alameda and forgot to close the Notebook. So, I get back home and walk into, "Anyway you want it, that's the way you get it..." I mean, blaring... Lucky I don't have neighbors right now.

There she is, Tabby, sitting on the notebook in a cloud of stink - looking innocent as a kitten... and rocking out to 38 various selections from Journey, Robert Plant, Rob Zombie, and... Yanni?

Sorry to say this, but even Tabby's taste in music stinks. I mean, Yanni? Journey? How in the hell did that get in my collection? I don't listen to Yanni.

Group...morale...stink cats... Poinsettias? What to do? I think I need Zanax, or something.

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Saturday, December 11, 2004

G Date 16.20-11.12.04 LLA

My life has been non-stop Coast Guard since the 29th of October.

On Friday, the 29th of October, I drove to Petaluma to attend the Coast Guard Chief Petty Officer’s Academy. 33 days of boot camp for old farts. Sort of. There was lots of Physical Fitness such as running a timed mile and a half, two nine mile bike rides, a 10K, a hike at Bodega Bay, aerobics, sit-ups, push-ups, interactive stretches, and weight machines. We had to earn 10,000 Points on the Presidential Fitness Challenge website, so in addition to the forced runs, bike rides, interactive stretches at our desks, and push-ups, I played racquetball, walked, and rode my bike at home on the weekends.

However, [get ready cause this shits about to get heavy] CPOA also involved classes on Leadership, self improvement aka Bob Moawad’s Increasing Human Effectiveness Seminars on DVD w/classroom discussions and workbooks, Unit Specific Factors, systems and change management, coaching and counseling, personality types, Individual learning styles, motivation models, ethics, Coast Guard Core Values, Coast Guard history, and team building exercises. As part of formal introductions, anybody who said that they went to CPOA to learn better communication skills was required, i.e. assigned, to make a formal introduction. On the first day of CPOA everyone was asked to give two reasons they were attending CPOA. As a result of my answer, I was assigned to formally introduce VADM Allen, The Chief of Staff of the U.S. Coast Guard, to the class for a video-teleconference. I think a little over a quarter of the class was assigned formal introductions. One person had the privilege of introducing the Commandant, and yet another introduced the Master Chief Petty Officer of the Coast Guard. VADM Allen is the third Senior Officer in the CG and I’m just fine with that.

There were sixty-five Chiefs in my class, the designation of which was, Chief Petty Officer Academy Class CXXI (Those are Roman numerals for 121, Mandx). This was one of the largest classes ever and as such, we were divided into two classrooms. We were further divided into teams of eight with four teams to a room. In each room there was a blue team, red team, green team, and a gold team. If, for example, you were on the gold team, as I was, your roommate would be on the other gold team. At the end of each week, they would have one team color switch rooms with its counterpart. This kept the Chief’s circulating, and though I was never in the same room as the other gold team, all of my teammates were roommates with the other gold team members. The importance of this detail is about to be revealed.

As a part of Presentations, we were required to well… yeah, give presentations. Everything was about testing and pushing your comfort zone. So we started off gradual and built up. This is to say that the first presentations aren’t really worth mentioning. This is also to say that there were a lot. I mean, the first were like, “This is my new friend, X, and he has been in the Coast Guard all his bloomin life. He was born on the crest of a wave. His mother was a mermaid and his father was King Neptune.” And so on and so forth. So, for our first big presentation… Stasha, I don’t think that anyone actually had a mermaid for a mother… where was I? Our first big presentation… our team was divided in half to give two “Unit Specific Factors” presentations. This involved researching one member’s unit (Stick with me Webmaster) and breaking it down into parts to allow each member to present on an aspect of the unit for a total of twenty minutes. Our second big presentation was as a team and involved, “Morning Quarters”, i.e. passing of useful Coast Guard related information for a total of thirty minutes. Our third presentation was as a team and involved a system undergoing change in the Coast Guard. Our team was assigned “Deepwater” and it just so happened that the other gold team was assigned “Deepwater”. This is when we got smart and worked in unison with the other gold team by working with our roommates to research the material and create the accompanying slide show. Our fourth [big] presentation was on “Respect for others and Diversity Management.” This was the final presentation and lasted forty minutes.

On December 01st we graduated with a formal military dinner ceremony held at the Doubletree Hotel Grand Ballroom in Rohnert Park, California.

On December 03rd, I reported to Group San Francisco. My new assignment is Operation Specialist in charge of the Communications Center. Prior to the rate merge of QM, TC, and RD into OS, this was a Telecommunication Specialist (TC) job. As a former Quartermaster (QM) I have never worked in a Communications Center. I’m essentially learning a new rate on top of being at a new job with new people and having to learn Group San Francisco’s Area of Responsibility (AOR). So, to say the least, I have a lot on my plate right now.



In other news.

Lil Dave and I attended the Chinese Martial Arts and Entertainment Institute’s annual Christmas party in Belmont last night. There are three schools: Belmont, Fremont, and Lil Dave’s school in Oakland. Each school got on stage to perform. Despite Lil Dave’s apprehension, as he had missed class the entire time I was at CPOA, he did a great job on stage. In addition to the school’s many performances, there were three members of a Chinese acrobat team that put on an amazing show. Have you ever seen Chinese Acrobats? This one chick… Ugh, I can’t explain it. Sounds dirty. If you ever get the chance, go and see them. … Anyway… Stay with me Webmaster. I’ll tell you about it over a beer. … [somebody spoke and I went into a dream] … Master Henry performed with his Chinese yo-yo’s. Master Chung threw chopsticks into a board, walked across light bulbs in the on position barefoot, and shattered a bottle of Perrier by smacking it on its top. Hey! You try it. In addition, there were three raffles… Dave just wanted the X-Box. I just wanted one of the bottles of Merlot. And, the same lady as last year won the grand-prize, $300. I think it was rigged.



Today, we drove out to our new house which is still being built in Vallejo. I had to pay the electrician $450 under the table to install cable and phone outlets in the kid’s room and a fan outlet in the loft. This would have cost $500 just to request the work through the Builder and if they accepted the request, an additional $750 for the work itself. We previously paid $500 to request a modification. The request was denied and they kept the $500… So, we decided to take the under the table route. When we got to the house, we discovered that the work had already been done. I wrote a check for $450 and that was that.

While I was in CPOA, Aidee went to the design center and purchased $55K in upgrades. I can’t wait to see what the house looks like. The grand total for our new home is : Five hundred and thirty-four thousand and seven hundred dollars (U.S.).

Quick! Somebody splash some water on Pie.

Rooty, tooty, fresh and fruity,
Zelig X, GAG

Brought to you by the number F and the letter 2
Courtesy of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

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Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Transfer

I arrived in the San Francisco Bay Area nine years ago today (08 Sep). I transferred from Coast Guard Group Corpus Christi, Texas in August of 95 and reported to the Coast Guard Pacific Area Command Center on September 10th 1995. I was in the Command Center when it merged with the District Eleven Command Center in 1997. In July of 2000 I transferred to the Coast Guard Cutter Morgenthau home ported in Alameda, Ca. In August of 2003 I transferred back to the Coast Guard Pacific Area and District Eleven Command Center.

This past Friday I received orders to report to Coast Guard Sector San Francisco Command Center on December 01st 2004. My new billet is "Assistant Command Center Supervisor". Unless for some unforeseen reason I am "short toured", my orders to Group San Francisco will take me to July of 2008 at which time I will have served twenty and one half years in the United States Coast Guard. And, will have been in the San Francisco Bay Area for thirteen years.

Transferring to Group San Francisco is an exciting prospect for the fact that for crossing half way across the Bay Bridge to where the Group is located on Yerba Buena Island, my Basic Allowance for Housing (BAH) will rise substantially by nearly 600 a month. At current, I live in Coast Guard housing and can only cash in on that higher BAH if I move out of housing and onto the economy. Unfortunately, housing in the Bay Area is about the highest in the known Universe. And likely, I will have to face a daunting commute if I wish to find affordable housing. You cannot find a pest free three bedroom house with indoor plumbing in Alameda for under $500,000. For that, you have to drive about forty miles. Anyway, I've begun working with a Realtor to find my dream shack - I'll keep you posted.

Zelig X

P.S. I did find a very fine crack shack in Albany for $499,000. Crack whores not included. Oh well.

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Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Dark Minion of the Volunteers of Ministries of Scientology and Dianetics

Dark Minion of the Volunteers of Ministries of Scientology and Dianetics
- Or -
You hold em like tomatoes. Not too hard and not too light

Aug 31, 2:22 AM (PST)

By Zelig X

Oakland, Ca. (GP) This past weekend I met one of the Dark Minions of the Volunteers of Ministries of Scientology and Dianetics.

Let me tell you, this encounter not only sucked eggs, it cost me the five dollars I was planning to spend on lunch.

To wit; not only did this encounter suck eggs, not only was I induced by a Dark Minion of the Volunteers of Ministries of Scientology and Dianetics to buy a crappy booklet with the five dollars I was planning to spend on lunch; but I also gave them my home address and telephone number.

Let me explain.

Lil Dave and I were walking around the street fair in Oakland’s China Town this past Sunday when one of the booths caught my eye. People sitting in the booth were holding metallic cylinders connected to black boxes. We took a closer look and before I knew it a woman asked me if I would like to take a “stress test”. “Sure”, I said laughing, “I’ll peg the meter.” We had just spent the last two hours at Lil Dave’s Karate school for his belt test and I was beginning to get hungry. Low blood sugar raises my stress level to the nth degree. Not to mention the fact that I had stayed up late the night before and had gotten up early for Dave’s test.

I sat down and the lady handed me the metallic cylinders. “You hold em like tomatoes. Not too hard and not too light.”

I’m looking at the cylinders and they’re connected by wires to this black box with dials and knobs, looking like it came out of some hokey 1950’s Science Fiction movie.

“Now think of somebody, maybe your wife or somebody or a stressful situation or somebody that causes you stress.”

As she tells me this I’m watching the meter and it’s bumping around, slowing moving to the right … as instructed I think of a troublesome coworker from the ship and the meter continues to rise.

The lady continues speaking, “So, you’re on the (Coast Guard Cutter) Morgenthau?”

I was taken back. “Huh?” She pointed at my shirt. I was wearing a Morgenthau T-shirt. “I’m in the Coast Guard, too”, she informed me.

“Great!” I thought, “This is all I need”. And by now the meter is almost to the highest level. I’m overtired, hungry, and my mind is spinning as I wonder what I’ve gotten into. I’m hooked to this machine that is supposedly exposing my inner well being to this person that I had previously imagined a complete stranger but now I’m trying to tell if I recognize from work. So, I’m explaining that I used to be on the ship but now I’m at… and to make matters worse I’m glancing about the booth and its then that I see a book sitting on the table entitled, “Dianetics”. I continue looking about and catch the word, “Ministries” next to a customized cross. As she continues to pry about my rate and rank and whatever else I watch the stress meter cross the highest mark.

She flips a switch and the meter comes back to earth. She tells me to think about a calm situation or someone who makes me feel calm – and the meter just hovers around normal – But I’m still at the same level of stress!

Nevertheless, she’s satisfied she has the requisite information about me and takes the cylinders from my hands. She stares at me intently and begins telling me about how Dianetics has helped her in her life and how it can help me in mine. I’m thinking about the Spaghetti Factory but I’m bound not to throw a conniption fit for the sake that this person is a fellow Coast Guardsman. I’m nodding my head and trying to look interested as I secretly try to think of a polite way to make my escape.



And yet there remained a part of me that was deeply interested in this exchange. The woman told me that Dianetics had completely changed her life and she had been involved in it for the past eleven years.

We Graphites joke about Graphism being a “Cult”, but this my friends; this Dianetics is the real McCoy. I found myself thinking;

1. How could a person in the Unites States Coast Guard get mixed up in such a Cultish institution for eleven years? And at the same time realizing that it’s not at all beyond the realm of possibility.

2. The classic American sixties style cults failed and continue to fail because they completely consume their victims; robbing them of their holdings and rendering them incapable of being productive members of society. This cult succeeds in that it allows its victims to remain productive members of society and thereby continue to bring revenue (and new members) to the cult.

3. How is Dianetics different from any other organized Religion? What makes me think this is a “Cult” and any other organization with similar structure, rules, language, etc. isn’t?

4. I don’t care what it is, I’m hungry, and I don’t like it.


Once certain things are put into motion the only way to complete them smoothly is to follow them to their natural conclusion. This was one of those things.

So, she wanted me to have a booklet that she thought would help me; Marriage.

“You want me to have that booklet? Well, thank you”. … Bitch.

“Well, we’re not giving them away. We’re non-profit but we have to pay for their production - so we charge five dollars.”

Jesus…

“Okay. You got anything on setting goals?” I wasn’t going to let this woman tell me that I need her Dianetics booklet on Marriage. I’ve been married for nearly fifteen years, thank you. I think my hunger was just beginning to get the better of me.

So, she reaches for one on goal setting. She’s flipping through pages and reading me this non-sense and I’m looking at pictures of people hired off the street to pose in hokey situations. Again, the cheesy fifties look, like “Leave it to Beaver” this time. And then - “And these other two go perfectly with that one.”

Now she wants to sell me three … I’m overtired and hungry and all - but I can still do simple mathematics. My nine year old is bored to tears. Hell, I’m bored to tears.

“Look”, I say, “I’ll just take this one”.

“Sure”, she says enthusiastically, “Here just let me write a receipt for you. (scribble scribble) What’s your address? (scribble scribble) What’s your phone number?” (scribble scribble) “Now we don’t just try to sell books and pamphlets and send people on their way, we’re not just out to make money, we care about the people we meet. We’re ministries, and we follow up with the people that we help. So, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to give you a call in about a week and see how you’re doing. Plus, I really think that you need to read these two other booklets…”



So… I’m thinking she might make a good recruit for the Graphites. What do you think?

Mua-hahaha,

Zelig X, GAG



This is precisely the sort of thing that people who like this sort of thing will like.

The Graphite Organization

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Thursday, August 26, 2004

I just want to go home and have an ice tea

About a week back I got a letter from DeVry University. Two pages; the first was an introduction and the second a short “survey”. There was also a prepaid envelope to return the survey.

Normally I open these types of letters, rip the pages in half and toss them into the waste basket without a second thought. However, as I recently posted, I will be eligible for retirement from the Coast Guard in just over three years. Naturally, I have begun to think about what I’m going to do; stay in awhile longer or get out and immediately find another job or perhaps go to school for awhile. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to get a jump on my next career and begin taking classes while I’m still in the Coast Guard. Actually, I was taking classes when I first joined the Graphites back in 97, but going to the ship put the damper on that endeavor for about the last five years.

So, I decided to have a look at the material from DeVry. I filled out the simple survey and sent it off… I even took a quick look at DeVry’s website.

Today I got a call from a friendly DeVry rep and before I knew it, I had agreed to take a short drive down to Fremont to meet the rep, get the scoop, and tour the facilities.

Groovy.

I arrived a few minutes late but was still asked to fill out a questionnaire with the information they presumably already had and then waited a few minutes while it was reviewed. When the rep came out to greet me she had another DeVry rep in tow who she said she had asked to attend as he had experience with Military Members. The three of us took a seat in her office and it was very comfortable - for the first two minutes - as the first rep explained to the second the information she had already gleaned about me in the phone call earlier in the day. I had already revealed that I enjoy using computers but I don’t enjoy fixing them. I don’t enjoy programming. I enjoy writing.

And then, the meeting took on the atmosphere of a job interview.

“What type of work do you see yourself doing after the Coast Guard?” – This is going fast, I thought. I said that I hoped to find a job that involved writing, working in the Computer Industry, or a combination of the two.

“Of the college courses you’ve taken, what were your favorites?” – I took a deep breath, “Literature, creative writing, humanities…” I started to laugh nervously, “Maybe these don’t really reflect an interest in the computer industry…”

I had come in with a lighthearted attitude wearing jeans and a t-shirt and found myself in an interview with two slick well tailored DeVry scouts. The twelve hour shifts of the previous three days began to weigh on me and my lighthearted attitude turned south. As one would ask me a question I sensed the other studying me intently. The feeling of good cop bad cop began to dawn on me with the female playing good cop and me trying to sell my DeVry-ability to the bad cop. This feeling reached a surrealistic crescendo when the woman, the good cop asked me, “How did you hear about DeVry?”

The Gall. They had me off balance enough by this point for me to say that I had looked at DeVry years ago when I had considered getting out of the Coast Guard to look for work in the Computer Industry. However, as I explained, the cost of the school was prohibitive, as I would have been out of the Military without a retirement check and Tuition assistance. However, as things were now, I would have Tuition Assistance, a job, and once I got out, I would have the G.I. Bill and a retirement check to fall back on.

What I wanted to say; “You sent me a survey consisting of five questions and then you called me up today and invited me down here.”

So now that they got me trying to convince them that I have the right stuff for DeVry – they want to get me signed up for classes starting next week. Next week. I told them that this was too soon. I have a one month Coast Guard course to attend all of November, namely, The Chief’s Academy. You actually live at Petaluma for a month while you attend Chief’s Academy. “Well, how intense is this course? Is it like most Military type schools where you go from 8 to 4? You could still take our class in the evening.” “No”, I explained, “It is very intense and I won’t have full access to computers”… It took about five minutes of convincing them that I would not be able to do both. I asked about starting courses in January. It took some effort, but I finally brought them around to my reasoning. “Well, we can start the paperwork today…” I found out that this involves a $50 something or other fee and HEY! - Cause you’re Military we wave the other $50 fee… Jesus. I just want to go home and have an ice tea.

“I’m going to take this home and thi…” Bad cop suddenly had a thing…”All the time, they need … sorry gotta go…” Good cop smiled at me as I continued, “I’m going to take this home and think about it.”

She showed me around the facilities… more blah blah blah.



Aside from this disheartening interview, what do I know? Does anyone have any info on DeVry?

The Pro that I see is that DeVry works closely with the Industry to insure their students have the skills they’re looking for and then they assist with placing their students in those industries. A Tech Mill. And also in this sense, structured like the Military.

The Con; the cost remains prohibitive. $250 per credit Vs. California tuition of around $45 per credit.

Remaining; I don’t know the rep of this school in the field Vs. the cheaper California schools.

And finally; I want to take a look at available Journalism courses (before I commit myself to the Computer Field).

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Thursday, August 19, 2004

You don’t have to back up all your files – Part II

This time the family desktop computer which is kept in my Son’s room died. For the most part, I have learned my lesson about backing up files. However, it was to this computer that I was backing up all my files. I guess I have to go through the tedious process of backing up all my files to a CD – at least until I have the desktop repaired.

Regarding the desktop’s ills, I believe the problem is a burnt out power supply. My son said that the computer “smelled like popcorn” - again, shortly before it crapped out. I tried turning the computer on and off a couple times (I learned this in Computer Problem Solving 101) and noticed the smell of burned computer innards.



An update from the previous, “You don’t have to back up all your files”. The Sotec Notebook was repaired by an acquaintance for the promised $160 and now sits in my daughter’s room connected to an external monitor, keyboard, mouse, and speakers. Notably, the only important file lost was my Outlook Address Book. So, if you haven’t heard from me lately, it might be because I lost your email address.

...

(See Friday, July 02, 2004 for the first "You don't have to back up all your files")

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Wednesday, August 11, 2004

The Birds

The Birds
Or the lack there-of
A Short Story by Zelig X
I mean - a really short story by Zelig X

It wasn’t immediately reported in the press. In fact, most people weren’t even immediately aware of it. Just the Ornithologists. And not many people paid attention to bird watchers these days. More and more people had come to grapple with the troubling question, “Is something you can do with a Dry Martini in your hand really a sport?”

Still, there were others.

David Jenkins and his family were sitting at a Quiznos outdoor table in Alameda, quietly chatting over sandwiches and sodas. They were a typical Alamedan family. Working class, dysfunctional, tied down with bills and most of all, typical.

It was a beautiful Alameda, Northern California summer day. A light breeze, sun, a few clouds in the sky, you get the picture.

Mr. Jenkins was thinking about his glasses; “I need new glasses”, he thought. For the most part, he lived in his head, always thinking these sorts of deep thoughts. Oh yes, he might appear to be listening and joined in the conversation. He might even say to his daughter, “Yes dear, if you keep practicing your guitar you might be like that girl in No Doubt and then your parents won’t have to work anymore”, but really, he was much more engrossed with a dialogue in his own head of deep import.

“I remember when I got my first pair of glasses. How sharp everything looked. The leaves on the trees…” ran the course of his thoughts when Mrs. Jenkins commented that she liked the sandwiches at Subway better. Both the daughter and the son agreed. Mr. Jenkins said, “I think that Quizno’s is fresher”, as he said this he jiggled his glasses slightly and looked up towards the distance… The daughter said something about Subway sandwiches tasting more like the way sandwiches should taste than Quiznos sandwiches…but Mr. Jenkins was trying to tell if the leaves on the trees looked as crisp and sharp as they should.

“What if I was going blind?”, he thought and it suddenly occurred to him how precious was the gift of sight and how you don’t appreciate a thing until it is gone. He wanted to see. He wanted to see the distinction and contrast in the things around him. He studied the trees harder. He suddenly became aware of how many trees there were about him.

For the most part, the Jenkins family ignored the man of the family. They had long ago grown accustomed to his wandering attention. They continued to discuss the many ways in which Subway was superior to Quiznos. “It’s just that I don’t like the pepperonis”, the daughter stated matter-of-factly.

Mr. Jenkins was thinking about his sight, he was thinking about the trees. As he glanced about he added other things to his list; first clouds, then the passengers in passing cars, a drab-yellow fire hydrant, and finally, birds.

He wasn’t looking for a Stilt Sandpiper, or a Baird Sandpiper, or any other species of bird you could name. He didn’t even know the difference between a “Stilt” and a “Baird”. And if you had challenged Mr. Jenkins to name off all the species of birds he could in sixty seconds he would have said, “owl, pigeon, blue jay, hawk, eagle, crow, woodpecker, sparrow, robin, common redpoll, northern flicker, yellow-rumped warbler, rhododendron, … oh wait, that’s a … that’s not a bird. How much time do I have left?”

Mr. Jenkins was a typical Alamedan and typical Alamedans didn’t think about birds. No, typical Alamedans thought about … well, sandwiches. “I ate half of my sandwich”, the daughter announced, “Can I eat the rest later?” “Right”, said Mr. Jenkins, “We know what will happen to that sandwich after we get home.” “What?” the daughter asked, but Mr. Jenkins was thinking in a very un-Alamedan way and said to his family, “Have you noticed that there aren’t any birds?”

The family all sat upright at attention, they looked at each other and then they looked from side to side. They were silent for a few moments.

Presently the son spoke, “Weird”, he said rather profoundly. “Yes, weird”, the Jenkins family agreed. … “Dad?” “Yes” “What will happen to my sandwich after we get home?”

But Mr. Jenkins was lost in thought.

Mr. Jenkins thought, “What if all the birds in the world just … vanished all at once? How long would it take for people to notice? For everyone to know? How would that change things? Would they blame Bush?” Mr. Jenkins was relieved to be thinking about the sudden loss of all the birds in the world because he no longer had to think about losing his vision. “No birds”, he thought, “that would make a GREAT STORY! The opposite of Alfred Hitchcock’s 1963 thriller, The Birds!”

After they finished eating, Mrs. Jenkins announced that she needed to get something from the Albertsons across the way. Mr. Jenkins, still looking all about, added in an absent-minded manner, “I need to pick up a shirt from the dry cleaners”.

As they walked across the parking lot a black-capped chickadee swooped down from the roof of the Albertsons and dropped something icky on Mr. Jenkins head.

The End

Thank you, thank you,
Sincerely,
Zelig X, GAG

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Sunday, August 08, 2004

B.C. in S.F. 02.00 08.08.04

It was a dark and stormy night…


Well, not really. It was a typical August day in San Francisco at two in the afternoon when Aidee and I attended Benjamin Crème’s lecture at the Palace of Fine Arts Theatre. It just would have been more fun with some crashing shutters and thunder and lightning.

I first heard about Benjamin Crème on Coast to Coast AM over a year ago when host, George Noory, was considering conducting an interview. George began receiving numerous warnings from his listeners that Mr. Crème is an emissary of the Anti-Christ. Crème they warned, is literally the mouthpiece of Satan, capable of deceiving anyone willing to listen, and the use of George’s airwaves would allow him to mesmerize millions of Coast listeners with his demonic message.

The following is from a small pamphlet I purchased this afternoon for $4.00 entitled "The esoteric art of Benjamin Crème".

"He is internationally known as a lecturer and author of esoteric philosophy and ideas. His many books have been published in a dozen languages. He was born in Scotland in 1922, began painting at the age of 13 and has been a painter all his life. He lives and works in London, England. His earlier work was stylized figurative painting, and for some years he painted many landscapes, rather abstracted. Since 1964, his work has been totally esoteric in its meaning, and symbolic abstract in its nature."

There is a good deal of controversy surrounding the nature of Benjamin Crème and his work


The following is from the pro-Creme website of Share International;

http://www.shareintl.org/background/bcreme/bc_main.htm

Throughout his early years Creme also studied various aspects of esoteric philosophy, in particular the teachings released in the late 1800s through Helena Blavatsky and the Theosophical Society, and more recently through Alice A. Bailey. Although these teachings led him to believe in the existence of the Masters of Wisdom -- a group of perfected individuals who are the custodians of the Divine Plan for this planet -- it nevertheless came as a complete surprise to him when, in 1959, he was contacted by one of the Masters. He was told, among other things, that Maitreya, the World Teacher -- the Master of all the Masters -- would return in about 20 years and that he (Creme) would have a role to play in the event if he chose to accept it.

More than a decade later, in 1972, Creme began a period of arduous training under his Master's direction to prepare him for his coming task: announcing to a skeptical world the emergence of the World Teacher, awaited by people of every religion under his various names -- the Christ, Messiah, Imam Mahdi, Krishna, Maitreya Buddha. Creme's constant contact with a Master of Wisdom gives him access to up-to-date information on Maitreya's emergence, plus the total conviction needed to present this story


The following is from the website of Illuminati Conspiracy Archive;

http://www.conspiracyarchive.com/NewAge/Creme_Maitreya.htm

Whether Benjamin Creme's channeled "Master" is, in fact, the antichrist or not, remains to be seen. However, the teaching of man's divinity is the crux of the New Age-New World Order, and its various "light-bearers" have successfully ingrained this idea into the minds of humanity — a clear invitation to partake "in fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil". We know who brought that first message in the Garden, and the startling thing is that they readily admit that its Lucifer bringing this same "initiation." Incidentally, New Age leader John Randolph Price admits that, "Those who follow the path of Lucifer are called 'light-bearers' in the world."


In the pamphlet that I purchased, "The esoteric art of Benjamin Crème", his painting "Solar Angel" is described thus;

The Solar Angel represents our true identity. All of us are souls in incarnation. Our true nature is an individualized part of one great angel whose name is Lucifer. I am often asked during interviews about the nature of Lucifer. The common idea is that Lucifer is Satan, the devil. Nothing could be further from the truth. Lucifer, the Light-bringer, embodies the whole of humanity. Lucifer is a great angelic being, the Oversoul of all the souls of humanity. The fall of Lucifer from heaven, in the Christian Bible, is a symbolic account of the descent into incarnation (some eighteen and a half million years ago, according to the esoteric teachings) of the human souls for the first time. … It was not by accident but the result of the evolutionary Plan.


From the website of The New Advent;

http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/09410a.htm

Lucifer

(Hebrew helel; Septuagint heosphoros, Vulgate lucifer)

The name Lucifer originally denotes the planet Venus, emphasizing its brilliance. The Vulgate <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/15515b.htm>
employs the word also for "the light of the morning" (Job 11:17), "the signs of the zodiac" (Job 38:32), and "the aurora" (Psalm 109:3). Metaphorically, the word is applied to the King of Babylon (Isaiah 14:12) as preeminent among the princes of his time; to the high priest Simon son of Onias (Ecclesiasticus 50:6), for his surpassing virtue, to the glory of heaven (Apocalypse 2:28), by reason of its excellency; finally to Jesus Christ <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/08374c.htm> himself (II Petr. 1:19; Apocalypse 22:16; the "Exultet" of Holy Saturday) the true light of our spiritual life. The Syriac version and the version of Aquila derive the Hebrew noun helel from the verb yalal, "to lament"; St. Jerome <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/08341a.htm> agrees with them (In Isaiah 1:14), and makes Lucifer the name of the principal fallen angel <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/04710a.htm> who must lament the loss of his original glory bright as the morning star. In Christian tradition <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/15006b.htm> this meaning of Lucifer has prevailed; the Fathers <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/06001a.htm>
maintain that Lucifer is not the proper name of the devil <http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/04764a.htm> , but denotes only the state from which he has fallen (Petavius, De Angelis, III, iii, 4).

...

Benjamin Crème has been interviewed on Coast twice now, once last year and again in the past week. And, I have attended two of his lectures (2003 and 2004) in the Bay Area. Mr. Crème is a powerful speaker and does so out of a deep sense of conviction in what he says, but some of his ideas are really … out there.

Here are some notes;

* Benjamin Crème has a "Master". The Master -- is a senior member of the Hierarchy (not Maitreya) of the Masters of Wisdom; his name, well-known in esoteric circles, is not yet being revealed for various reasons. Benjamin Creme is in constant telepathic contact with this Master who dictates His monthly articles to him since 1982.
* Mr. Crème is pro-Kerry. He believes that Kerry will win the
election, but ONLY if people get out and vote.
* Mr. Crème is pro-environmental protectionalism
* The United States did not capture the REAL Saddam Hussein, but
instead a family member that was encouraged by the family of Hussein to portray himself as Saddam. Saddam died as a result two days after his palace was bombed on March 22 2003. He believes that this will eventually be revealed.
* The U.S. went to War with Iraq when it did because Washington Insiders knew that Saddam was a dying man and had maybe only two years to live. The death of Saddam and subsequent instability in the region would have rendered the WMD argument for war and resulting control of oil – moot.
* We went to War with Iraq for oil.
* Benjamin Crème is 81 years old.
* The Maitreya is 18 plus million years old.
* The Maitreya is the ONE expected for generations by all of the major
religions. Christians know him as the Christ, and expect his imminent return. Jews await him as the Messiah; Hindus look for the coming of Krishna; Buddhists expect him as Maitreya Buddha; and Muslims anticipate the Imam Mahdi or Messiah.
* The Master Jesus was a Third Level Initiate 2000 years ago… The
whole crucifixion thing was part of his initiation to the Fourth Level … He’s since moved up a level and currently lives in Rome.
* Karma is governed by four beings that live way far away from our
Solar System.
* He likes Michael Moore, even if he’s a little over the top. (that
just gives me a chuckle)

Mr. Crème speaks in graceful arcs, connecting the everyday to the fantastical.

Only time will tell.

For more information, visit the Share International Website;

http://www.shareintl.org/index.htm

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Benjamin Creme Posted by Hello

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Friday, July 02, 2004

You don't have to back up all your files

Just the one's you want to keep.

I learned that lesson...again.

I just bought my THIRD notebook computer. Yeah, that's right. The last one crapped out on me hard. Wear and tear. It stopped recognizing that it was plugged in. I believe this was due to me repeatedly trying to carrying it upstairs at 3 AM when it was still plugged into the wall. Alcohol may have played a contributing factor.

In the final sad days of the Sotec's foreshortened life I would have to jiggle the AC adaptor around to get the "charge" indicator to come on, but it would quickly go back to not charging or not recognizing that it was plugged in at all...This went on for maybe a week. Finally, the battery wore down to 0 percent and it wouldn't start unless I got the adaptor in just right and held it in place, else it would immediately shut down... which was the case when it last ran; and I continuously wiggled the adaptor and tapped the start button... on off, on off, on off, on off, on... then miracle! ... it stayed on... till it suddenly told me that a config file was corrupted and I would have to run the recovery disk. Problem is, I lost the recovery disk when I went on a trip back East last summer.

Long story short...well, I guess it's a little late for that now; I went to the Averatec website and ordered a new notebook.

The last notebook, the late Sotec, is at the home of an acquaintance who tells me that he can get it running again and will only charge me $160.00...

Now, ostensibly, I am willing to pay $160.00 to recover files. However, being that I have a second computer, most of my important OLDER files are backed up on it and most of my digital pictures are stored on my website and ofoto.com. I discovered that for the most part I am only missing saved emails, ebooks, and recent files (some of which, may be important) that I neglected to back up... The hauntingly persistent question being; what files did I forget to back up and is it worth $160 to recover them?

In the final analysis, I decide that it is worth the $160 to recover the notebook so that I may give it to my daughter to replace her aging Dell.

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Wednesday, June 09, 2004

Venus Passing

This afternoon, at an establishment I will leave unnamed; when asked by the kindly Grandmother lady how I could be helped, I stated that I needed a certain product – a certain product that can only be purchased at this particular establishment. The “weird fuck,” the guy that always looks like he's strung out on Coke or badly in need of a new kidney, grabbed his head and moaned, “Why now?” I don't know if he was talking to me or some internal dialogue in his head. I asked, "Did I come at a bad time?" He responded that it was “always a good time.” He began to walk around the “employee only” side of the store and speaking in a sarcastic manner for all to hear ranted, "I live for customers. Customers are my life. I love customers. I dream about customers. I have nightmares about customers.” I looked at the grandmotherly lady who appeared mildly embarrassed, yet sympathetic to the “Weird Fuck.”
If this place wasn't the only show in town when it comes to this particular product, I would have walked out.

I ask you, did the passing of Venus between the Sun and the Earth trigger this behavior?

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Saturday, June 05, 2004

IKEA

After dinner this evening, we went to IKEA. I recently heard that the owner of IKEA has surpassed Bill Gates in wealth. Though the furniture seems like a lot of chintzy retro-type furniture for the masses, to me, I have a theory why the store has become so popular.

I believe there is a well-studied psychology of the consumer built into the layout and presentation of the store. In Paco Underhill’s book, Why We Buy, the author discusses the importance of “The Transition Zone”, (the area just inside the store entrance); and "circulation patterns” (how shoppers move throughout a store). “The Transition Zone” is the area where the time-conscious and wary modern shopper is transformed to a leisured and amenable customer. Underhill states, “Don’t put your best product near the front door. Most people walk right past it.”

To this end, when you first enter IKEA, you are immediately slowed down by the fact that the shopping begins on the second floor and you are forced to take an elevator to get to the action. As you ride the elevator, the outside world is left behind; by the time you reach the showroom floor, you have entered “IKEA World”. We’re it not for the arrowed traffic pattern; IKEA World would very nearly qualify as a giant hay maze at a state fair. Unlike your local grocery store, where you can easily find the vodka on aisle 5, you must navigate your way through the store by way of the traffic arrows.

This marketing strategy, whether consciously measured or not, constitutes a voluntary investment of your time. Perchance time enough to warm up to their chintzy-retro type furniture for the masses.

Well, some of the stuff is cool…

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Wednesday, June 02, 2004

Welcome

I've been wondering what the buzz about blogging was all about.

Well, not really. But, I did want to try one out anyway.

So, here I am. I haven't really gotten the whole web identity thing sorted out. I mean, Am I Zelig, am I Dave? Am I the next Matt Drudge? And, what am I trying to accomplish with a weblog? I mean, blog. Is it for me? Is it for you? Will it affect my employment or credit rating? Will they brand me a Communist? Or worse, a Democrat? Do I need to get a newsman hat, and with pad and pencil in one hand, digital cam and cigarette in the other, report on local functions and activities, harass civil servants and seek out undercover sources?... or even better - comb the local scene for the dark underbelly of American Society? I know, perhaps I could spend my days in the local Coffee Shop, hiding behind dark sunglasses and notebook computer, mining the absurd irony out of the couple at the next table sharing a Macchiato Frappacino - BINGO! That's it! Well, I'd better get out there. I promise not to let you down~! I mean, how could I? I live in the Bay Area!

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Monday, January 26, 2004

Albertsons

So, There I was - standing happily in the 15 items or less line at the Albertson’s with my mix of three for five-dollars airplane sized bottles of Sutter Home wine. I was two away from the checkout conveyor belt and gearing up to flirt with my favorite checkout Sallie, the cutest little barcode scanner this side of State Lines. I was just thinking how I would respond with something witty when she asked, “Did you find everything, ok?” when the Self-Checkout Betty saddled up to me with a toothy smile on her stinking face.

“Hi”, she purred, “How are you doing?”

“Hi”, I said, forcing a smile, “Fine, how are you?”

“Would you like to try the Self Checkout?” She asked, staring me down, daring me to deny her request and prove to the World that I was just standing in the long line to flirt with the checkout Sallie like an out of control school boy - like a middle aged man in the throes of mid-life crisis feigning the airs of a College frat-boy - like a lion stalking a gazelle on the Serengeti - like a dog in heat - like a … like a

“Sir, it’s really quick!”

Furrowing my brow, I stammered, “I’ve never used one of those before”.

“Don’t worry, they’re really quick, you’ll be out of here in no time.”

I stole a last furtive glance at my pretty-little checkout Sallie and reluctantly turned to follow the Self-Checkout Betty to the Self-Checkout. Stinking hell. I turned to follow her around a shelf of day old French bread. I paused to stare at the stale French bread on sale for a buck ninety-nine, my lustful mind thrown into confusion. Moments later when I came to my senses, Self-Checkout Betty stood there patiently, eyes blinking, “This one’s open” she stated as if I was some kind of grocery store tourist.

“Can I get cash back?” I asked.

“Of course,” she answered and left to take her station in the center of the Self-Checkout aisle.

Bloody hell. I stood there like an idiot reading the directions. Finally, I passed my Albertson’s Key Ring Loyalty Card in front of the scanner. I stared at the monitor. Then, I took my first bottle of three for five-dollars airplane sized bottle of Sutter Home wines and passed the barcode in front of the barcode reader.

A feminine Star Trek Spaceship Enterprise computer voice announced, “Approval Required”. I turned in alarm towards the Self-Checkout Control Station. There was Self-Checkout Betty chatting away with Camera Department Barney like everything in the World just ran on its own and they were just there to reassure hapless customers with their presence.

Annoyed, I turned back to the Self-Checkout contraption and passed another bottle barcode across the barcode reader and again the Star Trek voice said, “Approval Required”. I glanced over my shoulder, Betty and Barney were chatting away as if they didn’t have a trouble in the world. I stared at the contraption for a moment. Then, I looked over at the 15 items or less line and noticed that the two people who had been in front of me were long gone… people who had arrived after me were already trading pleasantries with Checkout Sallie.

I passed the third bottle of wine across the barcode scanner and for a third time the computer voice stated, “Approval Required”. I turned fully around and stared at the Self Checkout Control Station. Betty and Barney were discussing the upturn in the World’s Stock Markets and the F’ing price of Tea in, “Excuse me”, I said politely holding up my hand, “It says I need approval”.

My life sucks.

“Squishy Save Us”

Zelig X, OTO, KT, LLA, GAF, WWJD, etc. etc.

"The half-wise, recognizing the comparative unreality of the Universe, imagine that they may defy its Laws--such are vain and presumptuous fools, and they are broken against the rocks and torn asunder by the elements by reason of their folly.” - The Kybalion

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Sunday, January 25, 2004

Food Court in Emeryville

Every Friday, Aidee goes to dinner at the Food Court in Emeryville. She started doing this when I was underway on the ship. I protested and resisted this ritual for awhile. Jenkins Family Friday Night turned into Aidee and Paige go to the Food Court, Lil Dave and Dad go someplace else. Aidee argued for the Food Court because of the variety, the relative cheap prices, and because you don’t have to tip. I argued against the Food Court because of the atmosphere. I haven’t really given up my argument, but it occurred to me the other night that I have been to the Food Court the past three Friday Nights.

Anyway, next to the Food Court is the Supermarket sized Borders Books and Music store. You eat dinner, you browse books and music. So, the family quickly separates and I find myself in line at the coffee shop. The retard at the cash register spends about six minutes trying to process the debit card of the guy in front of me… By the time I get my coffee a huge line … well, there’s not really room for a line, so a large number of people have amassed at the counter and the guy is beginning to freak out to the point of blurting out, “I always get nervous when it gets really busy!”

I got my coffee just in time. So, I meander through the bookstore browsing at overpriced books and looking for the family. Aidee is looking at English Grammar books. Paige is looking at CDs. And where do you think Lil Dave is? Lil Dave is in the Game Aisle parked in front of the genre of books titled “Video Games” . That’s right. Dave’s crouched on the floor dissecting a magazine-sized book dedicated to Nintendo’s “Animal Crossing” for Gamecube. “Interesting”, I think. When I was a kid, you just played Video Games. I suppose it’s inevitable, it’s probably not even the first of its kind, It just happens to be the first of it’s kind that I’ve noticed or recall noticing, and there it is, practically jumping off the bookstand; The Coffee Table sized tribute to the pop culture phenomena of Video Games entitled “Supercade”, featuring video games from 1971 to 1983. Ahh! Games that I, DAD, can relate to! Does anyone remember when joysticks had four cardinal directions and four inter-cardinal directions and one button?

It was in this book that I found a section dedicated to the Video Game System that my family owned back in the early 80’s, the Odyssey 2 Game System. I have often told my son about this System, but have never been able to find one to show him. It is for this reason that he insists on keeping his first Nintendo Game Console gathering dust on the shelf in the garage; So he can show his kids someday. Never mind that this was the Nintendo Game System that my lil Brother and I had back in the late 80’s, a good 7 or 8 years before Dave was born. Anyway, do you think that Lil Dave cares one iota about the ancient looking design and graphics of the Odyssey 2? No. Not one. I flip the page and there’s the old picture of mom, dad, brother, and sister with big grins on their faces playing some ultra-realistic space shoot-em up game on the Odyssey 2. I say to my boy, “Boy, look how much fun video games used to be. They brought the whole family together.” My son looks at me like he at least appreciates that his dad makes the attempt at humor - then quickly turns back to his book on “Animal Crossing” - hints, tips, and tricks.

Flipping through the pages of “Supercade” brought back such wonderful memories! I nearly cried. Worse, I nearly spent 49.95 for this treasure-trove of preserved 70’s and 80’s video game nostalgia. But I didn’t. If I had 50 bucks to spend idly, I’d put it into a new mouse for the computer in Lil Dave’s room…That this mouse if failing doesn’t seem to bother anyone, it’s just treated as a matter-of-fact, much the way that we used to treat blowing into game cartridges to get them to work as a matter-of-fact.

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Monday, January 12, 2004

Memory

I have a memory of when I was child, perhaps three years old, of running through my friend’s backyard, when I suddenly stopped - and there I stood transfixed, peering up through the branches of a tree to the sky and clouds; and I knew at this moment that I was both very young and very old at the same time. Then, I was off again, just a three year old child, on my way to meet my friends.

Of course, at the age of six, my friends and I believed that the three-foot deep hole we had labored for hours to dig for our forte in the side yard was about a quarter of the way to China. I’m pretty sure that it was our parents who suggested that to us.

Today, I’m not sure if there’s a God or not a God, if there’s reincarnation, or if you just die and that’s it. And I spend my days laboring to fill my home with products made in China...or Japan...or Microsoft...

You think it’s like this, but it’s really like this.

Fact, fiction, and fantasy entwine forming intricate patterns of delicate thread...I peer too hard and the thread fades, receding like a distant memory... disappearing here only to reappear there...

Yet still, I try...
Zelig X

“For the essence of a Mystery, is that it should remain a Mystery.”
Franz Kafka

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Sunday, May 18, 2003

Nigerian Email Scam

Nigerian Email Scam

From: DR. FRANK EFE [frankefe333@ecplaza.net]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 3:04 PM
To: zelig@attbi.com
Subject: ASSISTANCE NEEDED

FROM THE DESK OF
DR. FRANK EFE .
DEAR SIR/MADAM.
we are sending this letter to you base on information gathered from the foriegn trade office of the nigeria chamber of commerce and industry.
I would like to firstly send to you the best wishes of good health and success in your pursuits particularly through my proposal as contained in this letter.
Before going into details of my proposal to you, I must first implore you to treat with the utmost confidentiality as this is required for its success and to have faith in this transaction,for opportunities like this only comes to one once in a life time. My colleagues and I are senior officials of the Federal Government of my country's Contracts Review Panel (CRP) who are interested in diverting some funds that are presently floating in the accounts of the Apex Bank of my country.In order to commence this transaction, we solicit for your assistance to enable us transfer into your nominated account the said floating funds. We are determined to conclude the transfer before the end of this quarter of 2003.
The source of the funds are as follows: During the last military regime in my country,government officials set up companies and awarded themselves contracts that were grossly over-invoiced in various ministries and parastatals.The present civilian government set up the Contract Review Panel, which has the mandate to use the instruments of payments made available to it by the decree setting up the panel, to review these contracts and if necessary pay those who are being owed outstanding amounts.
My colleagues and I have identified quite a huge sum of these funds which are presently floating in our (Apex) Central Bank ready for ensbursement and would like to divert some of it for our own purposes. However, by virtue of our positions as civil servants and members of this panel, we cannot acquire these funds in our names or in the names of companies that are based in my country. I have therefore been mandated,as a matter of trust by my colleagues in the panel, to look for a reliable overseas partner into whose account we can transfer the sum of U.S.$20,500,000.00 (Twenty million, five hundred thousand U.S. dollars).That is why I am seeking your assistance. We have agreed to share the money to be transferred into your account, if you agree with our proposition as follows;
(i)25% to the account owner(you).
(ii)65% for us (the panel officials).
(iii)10% to be used in settling all expenses (by both
you and us) incidental to the actualization of this project.
We wish to invest our share of the proceeds of this project in foreign stock markets and other viable business till we are ready and able to have access to them without raising any eyebrows here at home. Please note that this transaction is 100% safe and risk-free. We intend to effect the transfer within fourteen (14)banking days from the date of receipt of the following information through the E-MAIL (frankefe333@yahoo.co.uk ) stated above:Your company's name,address,telephone and fax numbers we will use your company's name to apply for the payment and backdate the award of the contract in favour of your company. We are looking forward to doing this transaction with you and we solicit for your utmost confidentiality in this transaction.
I will bring you into a more detailed picture of this transaction. we are sending you this letter from amsterdam holland because one of us is in holland for a course, you are to contact us through the email address stated below: (mailto:frankefe333@yahoo.co.uk>)
Best regards,
DR.FRANK EFE.


From: Zelig X [zelig@zeligx.com]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 3:24 PM
To: frankefe333@yahoo.co.uk
Subject: RE: ASSISTANCE NEEDED

How may I further assist you?

-----Original Message-----
From: Zelig X [mailto:zelig@zeligx.com]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 3:21 PM
To: 419.fcd@usss.treas.gov; abuse@yahoo.com; 419@spring39.demon.co.uk
Cc: 419@nigeriapolice.org
Subject: FW: ASSISTANCE NEEDED


-----Original Message-----
From: DR. FRANK EFE [mailto:frankefe333@ecplaza.net]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 3:04 PM
To: zelig@attbi.com
Subject: ASSISTANCE NEEDED

(The rest of the original message followed and has been deleted on this web page to avoid redundancy. Notice the email addresses I forwarded the message to prior to responding.)


From: frank efe [frankefe333@yahoo.co.uk]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 3:55 PM
To: zelig@zeligx.com
Subject: i await your response

Dear Zelig,

Thank you very much for your response to my proposal,

please for further information kindly send your phone number.

Regards Dr. Frank .

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yahoo! Plus - For a better Internet experience


From: Zelig X [zelig@zeligx.com]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 5:23 PM
To: frank efe
Subject: RE: i await your response

This sounds risky. Are you sure there won’t be any raised eyebrows?

For my part, I will require 35 percent of the proceeds plus expenses.

Also, for security, you must refer to me as Mr. Porridge. Mr. Zelig Porridge.

If we are to arrange secret meetings, pickups, or dropoffs, I request that we mark safe public locations in white chalk with the following symbol; ( :

If you agree to my terms, please respond with the code word: wakkachikka.

Regards,
Mr. Porridge


From: frank efe [frankefe333@yahoo.co.uk]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 5:50 PM
To: zelig@zeligx.com
Subject: i await your response

Dear Porriidge,

WAKKACHIKKA.

Regards Dr. Frank .

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yahoo! Plus - For a better Internet experience


From: Zelig X [zelig@zeligx.com]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 6:39 PM
To: frank efe
Subject: RE: i await your response

Dr. Frank,

For our project I shall obtain a private mailbox and cellular telephone in the name of Mr. Zelig Xavier Porridge. I will then request as an act of good faith on your part reimbursement in U.S. Dollars for the cost of the private mailbox, cellular telephone, travel and dining expenses, plus one percent of the proceeds up front.

Once I receive your token of good faith I will provide you with the phone number of the cellular telephone.

If you continue to agree to my terms, please respond with the second level code word: Bamboodioo.

Regards,
Mr. Zelig Xavier Porridge


From: frank efe [frankefe333@yahoo.co.uk]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 7:04 PM
To: zelig@zeligx.com
Subject: i await your response


Dear Porridge,

ok

Bamboodioo

Regards Dr.Frank

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yahoo! Plus - For a better Internet experience


From: Zelig X [zelig@zeligx.com]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 7:27 PM
To: frank efe
Subject: RE: i await your response

Dear Dr. Frank,

Excellent! Then the ball is in play.

Eagerly awaiting further communiques.

Zelig Xavier Porridge III, out

P.S. How much is 35 percent of 20,500,000 ?


From: frank efe [frankefe333@yahoo.co.uk]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 7:53 PM
To: zelig@zeligx.com
Subject: RE: i await your response

Dear porridge,

you are talking about percent but can' you send your phone number for further info or call me on this number :0031-630-353-283

Regards Dr. Frank .

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yahoo! Plus - For a better Internet experience


From: Zelig X [zelig@zeligx.com]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 8:40 PM
To: frank efe
Subject: RE: i await your response

Dear Dr. Frank,

Please refer to my email time stamped May 07, 2003 6:39 PM wherein I indicate that I will provide the phone number of the cellular telephone when I receive your token of good faith. I sense in your diligent research and effort to contact me that you are a well educated high level professional and probably a very well respected individual of your community. I assure you that I too, am a professional in such matters. My expediator, shall we say, a very well trusted and confidential, Mr. Bene Tlexiau, has been notified to initiate background checks. Thus, I will agree to establish voice communications when appropriate funds are received and background checks are completed to my satisfaction. Nothing personal, Dr. Franks, simply good business. In addition, I am a very busy and sought after individual and it is possible that your payment may fall substantially below my usual fee for related services. To that end I have requested percentage of funds. Besides, I regret to admit, I’m not very good with big numbers.

Regards,
Joseph Zelig Xavier Porridge, III

END OF EMAIL EXCHANGE BETWEEN DR. FRANK AND PORRIDGE


EMAIL EXCHANGE BETWEEN DR. JOHN AND PORRIDGE


From: Zelig X [zelig@zeligx.com]
Sent: Thursday, May 08, 2003 3:03 PM
To: johnmomodu111@ecplaza.net
Subject: RE: ASSISTANCE NEEDED (My reply to the email appended below, time stamped May 07, 2003 8:32 PM)

Do you represent Dr. Frank?

Porridge



-----Original Message-----
From: johnmomodu111@ecplaza.net [mailto:johnmomodu111@ecplaza.net]
Sent: Wednesday, May 07, 2003 8:32 PM
To: johnmomodu111@ecplaza.net
Subject: ASSISTANCE NEEDED


FROM THE DESK OF
DR.JOHN MOMODU.

DEAR SIR/MADAM.

we are sending this letter to you base on information gathered from the foriegn trade office of the nigeria chamber of commerce and industry.
I would like to firstly send to you the best wishes of good health and success in your pursuits particularly through my proposal as contained in this letter.
Before going into details of my proposal to you, I must first implore you to treat with the utmost confidentiality as this is required for its success and to have faith in this transaction,for opportunities like this only comes to one once in a life time. My colleagues and I are senior officials of the Federal Government of my country's Contracts Review Panel (CRP) who are interested in diverting some funds that are presently floating in the accounts of the Apex Bank of my country.In order to commence this transaction, we solicit for your assistance to enable us transfer into your nominated account the said floating funds. We are determined to conclude the transfer before the end of this quarter of 2003.
The source of the funds are as follows: During the last military regime in my country,government officials set up companies and awarded themselves contracts that were grossly over-invoiced in various ministries and parastatals.The present civilian government set up the Contract Review Panel, which has the mandate to use the instruments of payments made available to it by the decree setting up the panel, to review these contracts and if necessary pay those who are being owed outstanding amounts.
My colleagues and I have identified quite a huge sum of these funds which are presently floating in our (Apex) Central Bank ready for ensbursement and would like to divert some of it for our own purposes. However, by virtue of our positions as civil servants and members of this panel, we cannot acquire these funds in our names or in the names of companies that are based in my country. I have therefore been mandated,as a matter of trust by my colleagues in the panel, to look for a reliable overseas partner into whose account we can transfer the sum of U.S.$20,500,000.00 (Twenty million, five hundred thousand U.S. dollars).That is why I am seeking your assistance. We have agreed to share the money to be transferred into your account, if you agree with our proposition as follows;
(i)25% to the account owner(you).
(ii)65% for us (the panel officials).
(iii)10% to be used in settling all expenses (by both
you and us) incidental to the actualization of this project.
We wish to invest our share of the proceeds of this project in foreign stock markets and other viable business till we are ready and able to have access to them without raising any eyebrows here at home. Please note that this transaction is 100% safe and risk-free. We intend to effect the transfer within fourteen (14)banking days from the date of receipt of the following information through the E-MAIL (johnmomodu77@yahoo.ca) stated above:Your company's name,address,telephone and fax numbers we will use your company's name to apply for the payment and backdate the award of the contract in favour of your company. We are looking forward to doing this transaction with you and we solicit for your utmost confidentiality in this transaction.
I will bring you into a more detailed picture of this transaction. we are sending you this letter from amsterdam holland because one of us is in holland for a course, you are to contact us through the email address stated below: (johnmomodu77@yahoo.ca)

Best regards,
JOHN MOMODU.



_______________________________________________________
EC Plaza!!!
The world's No.1 B2B site, http://www.ecplaza.net



From: johnmomodu111@ecplaza.net
Sent: Friday, May 09, 2003 7:18 AM
To: Zelig X
Subject: Dr JOHN
Dear porridge,

yes Dr. FRANK EFE. is my colleague, in on course in amsterdam the netherland, i talk to you soon when i hear from you,

Regards Dr. John.

_______________________________________________________
EC Plaza!!!
The world's No.1 B2B site, http://www.ecplaza.net


From: Zelig X [zelig@zeligx.com]
Sent: Friday, May 09, 2003 1:37 PM
To: johnmomodu111@ecplaza.net
Subject: RE: Dr JOHN

Dr. John,

WakkaChikka.

Do you authenticate?

Please authenticate by supplying the second level code word established for secure communications between Dr. Frank and myself.

Porridge




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Monday, April 14, 2003

My Brother’s Keeper, Chapter 01

My Brother’s Keeper
Chapter 1
Renton Washington, 1973

Mrs. Krantz always got two cups out of her tea bags. She accomplished this routinely; carefully counting out the number of times she dipped the tea bag into the steaming cup. Seven times. Six times and the tea was too weak, eight and it was too strong. Seven brewed a perfect cup and it wasn’t an accident because seven was the number of her Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. She would then place the bag onto a spoon; wrapping the string of the tea bag about the bag and spoon, squeeze out the excess water and finally, place the tea bag onto a special little dish just for tea bags, unless of course it was the second application, whereby she would place the tea bag into the trash under the sink. She would tidy up, looking about her neat little kitchen to insure all remained in order, for Mrs. Krantz’s house was never to be found in disorder, issue a little sigh of relieved approval and hasten to take her place at the window.

The window was new. Her husband had installed it himself in the side of the house on the second floor next to the kitchen table. To let in the light, one might suppose, and if one thought that and even went so far as to mention the quality of the light afforded by the new window, that was fine by Mrs. Krantz. However, the real and unspoken truth of the matter was that the window had been installed so that she might watch her two young girls at play in the yard of their neighbor. The neighbors already had two young boys and a third child was on the way. The neighbors in the house on the other side had two young boys as well. “I do so like my neighbors”, Mrs. Krantz thought to herself as she tested her tea, “They are such Christianly people.” Mrs. Krantz briefly paused from her reflections on her neighbors to note that her tea wanted sugar, then resumed, “Too many boys, though”.

The new window was thrown open, covered by a screen to keep out winged and buzzing pests. Now and then a light breeze would fumble with the curtain or sample the quality of the hair adorning one Mrs. Eugenia Andorra Krantz. Mrs. Krantz who sat there sipping her tea, silent and watchful with intent.



As yet unseen by the watchful eyes of Mrs. Krantz, a little boy dressed in Garanimals and sandals darted across her back lawn. He was singing to himself as his short legs carried him across the lawn. To him, both his running and his song were effortless, the energy of his movements and the words of his songs were of even exchange with his consciousness of his surroundings. He and his song belonged in this place like the humming of the insects, the chirping of birds, and the sunlight falling softly on the lush green grass of an immense backyard full of the promise of endless summer and the wonder of life. Only the fences didn’t belong. They hinted at something about discontinuity. But he didn’t process it in this way; after all he was only a child of five years old. It was just that the fences got in the way. And nine times out of ten, gates were locked or otherwise unworkable. Yet his was a force of nature, a small force to be sure, but in his mind, there wasn’t a fence built that could not be climbed and subsequently balanced upon by he. He made it to the gate at the side of the yard where his song ended as he concentrated to work the gate latch lest he should face the challenge of climbing.

The latch gave way easily and the gate swung open. Before him lay another world of adventure; full of new sights and most importantly, this one had trees to be climbed. He began to run again. Bliss! And then it happened. Or, he felt it. Or…

Mrs. Krantz nearly spat her tea out. “There he is, that Zelig boy”. Mrs. Krantz focused all her attention upon the small boy running across the neighbors yard. “Boys”, she thought, “So full of wild energy”. And then he stopped. It was all of a sudden, as if someone had called his name and he wasn't sure from where the call had come. He stood frozen a moment, then turned his face slowly upward. Mrs. Krantz thought that perhaps he was searching for a bird in the branches of the tree standing over the boy’s head. She searched the trees for signs of birds but finding none returned her focus to the boy. There he stood motionless as if transfixed or in a trance. Mrs. Krantz recalled that her neighbors were fine upstanding Christianly people, but their boy, she thought to herself, “There's something about that one.”

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Monday, January 15, 2001

Fair Chlamydia

Fair Chlamydia

... Ahh, fair Chlamydia ... Wind swept and tragic, in your own way, how the scent of that great and spreading salt sea reminds me, Cupid's itch has smitten me... From North to South, from East to West, upon the swelling Ocean's sail, mighty ships, straight and true, her amorous crew of salty sea men, dripping and swelling even like the sea herself, and even as that mighty rigid vessel mounts …that next great wave ...taking her farther and farther out... Over the unknowable depths and uncharted seas of mystery regaled...and yet, a sigh of some regret... in the last port the enchantress, Gonorrhea... But lovely Syphilis awaits at the next...

Zelig X 2001

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Saturday, July 22, 2000

Chichen Itza

On our second day vacationing in Cancun we took a two and a half hour tour bus ride to Chichen Itza.

Chichen Itza is the most visited archealogical site in the peninsula of Yucatan, due to its extraordinary architechural beauty and geogragphical location. The priest Lakin Chan, who was also called Itzamna, founded Chichen Itza in 514 A.D. When the Spaniards arrived, it had already been abandoned as a consequence of the civil war fought with Mayapan. The final collapse of the Mayan culture took place in the north of the peninsula between 1196 and 1441.

The Spanish conquerors found the buildings of Chichen Itza partially in ruins and their names and real use were unknown, which is why their present names are suppositions. The Spanish further erased the memory of the Mayan people and consequently, any possibility of a genuinely comprehensive present-day knowledge of this once flourishing civilization by destroying written records and artifacts and actively suppressing the culture in the name of Christianity. (However, one must also reflect upon the barbarity of the age.)

Our tour guide explained to us that only three or four of the Mayan written texts exist today. These texts, the majority of which have been removed from Mexico, give the World some insight into the Mayan culture, language, science, and when coupled with the archaelogical evidence found at Chichen Itza, serve to further reveal their profound knowledge of mathematics, geography, and astronomy. The Mayan callendar has just one error in ten thousand years! The Mayan's believed this to be the fourth epoch of Man, with their present callendar and this epoch ending translated to our callendrical reckoning in December of 2012.

chichen_itza10.JPG (56317 bytes)

The Castillo or The Pyramid of Kukulcan



…When we arrived at Chichen Itza there were already thousands of visitors, on every day thousands come to this magnificent site. However, the most two most celebrated days of the year are the spring and fall equinox.

I will try to briefly explain what occurs on the spring and fall equinox. The Mayan's had 400 gods, one of which was the invisible god of the wind (the name of this god escapes me at the moment). However, on two days of the year, the spring and fall equinox, this god may be seen to this very day as the sun sets on the main pyramid, now known as The Castillo or The Pyramid of Kukulcan. The shadow of the sun plays against the structure of the pyramid onto one of the four staircases, and appears as a snake winding it's way (in the way that the wind itself may be imagined to wind it's way across the earth) down to the base of the pyramid. Consider the profound knowledge of astronomy, geography, and mathematics artistically incorporated into one of the World's greatest archaelogical treasures! For the pyramid is perfectly alligned to the four points of the compass. There are four sets of stairs, each with 91 steps plus a final step shared by the four sets of stairs; The four sets of stairs plus the final step equal 365, representing the solar callendar! It is for this reason that this pyramid, The Castillo or The Pyramid of Kukulcan is the Greatest Pyramid in Mexico.

chichen_itza9.JPG (48664 bytes)

I'm afraid that my words do not do justice to Chichen Itza. And now, I will prove it. Have you ever been to Houson, Texas? You know how hot and humid it is there? Well, at Chichen Itza, it's worse. You begin to perspire the moment the tour bus shuts down its air conditioning. Steppping off the bus is like setting foot into a gigantic sauna…within minutes you're …forget about it. For three hours you trek about this enormous archaelogical site. After following the tour guide for an hour and a half, you then have an hour and a half to explore the site on your own. In this time, everyone climbs the 91 plus one step to the top of The Castillo. The steps are narrow and steep. Is there some phrase; the path to heaven is narrow and steep? I don't know. The ascent appears easy enough from the bottom, even as you watch hundreds before you awkwardy climbing slowly and cautiously in a sideways fashion. You begin, only concentrating on each step before you. Before long you become a little winded and perhaps take a pause, looking down, the perspective is dizzying, appearing to be nearly straight down and the height greater than you had thought, and looking up, you realize that you are barely half way to the top. You think twice, nevertheless continue your slow and redoubled cautious ascent.

chichen_itza8.JPG (51478 bytes)

At the top, I'm winded. There is no railing and the walkway surrounding the structure at the top is maybe four feet wide. From here it appears that should you lose balance and fall over the side, you would fall straight down and worse, should you fall upon the stairs, you would bounce all the way down to the bottom. I immediately sit down with my back to the wall, waiting to catch my breath and regain my balance. After a few minutes, sitting and staring out over the site, I finally stand up and begin to walk around the structure, keeping one hand to the wall and maintaining my space from the other explorers, the more adventurous, or those unaflicted by heights walk about freely, their feet mere inches from the apparent sheer drop. The safest place is looking out from the structure.

chichen_itza4.JPG (39694 bytes)

It is here that I close my eyes and try to capture the moment. I let it all sink in, the magnificence of the pyramid, the culture that built it, what it means in my life to touch it. And what do you think pops into my mind at this moment? I'll tell you now, for simplicities sake; "Choosy moms choose Jif."

What in the hell is wrong with me? Choosy moms choose Jif? What's that? So much for epiphanies.

chichen_itza3.JPG (41331 bytes)

View of The Temple of The Warriors from atop The Castillo

Well, I'll chalk it up to Graphism, and Fat's having explained to me what "Wakka Chikka" really means. I knew at this moment that I was no ordinary man…er, I mean, that I would have to write to the Graphites about my experience at Chichen Itza…that I must find some meaning … some meaning in "Choosy moms choose Jif." Some justification for our oft-presumed modern day superiority. You could take any inane jingle that gets stuck in your head…or the hours you fritter away playing video games, writing emails, reading the back of a cereal box, sitting in a stupor in front of the television…And contrast it to these people who seemed on the one hand so simple and on the other capable of this magnificient creation of art, science, culture, religion, mathematics, architecture, astronomy…Makes me feel like popping pop corn for the Academy Awards…Jesus Christ…Just knowing that the finest moms are choosing Jif…while the Cosmos goes on spinning without a care whether we come or go… chaos or order? One plays against the other… We too are simpletons and geniuses in our own right…from splitting the atom, inventing the microchip and the rockets that carry the satellites that deliever our television and inane sitcoms and commercials.

And now, one must descend the pyramid…Falling off would be the quickest route, hardly the easiest…taking the stairs is safer…

chichen_itza6.JPG (56989 bytes)

Existence is an endless karmic round. There is little logic in religion and seeking it in science is folly. Sometimes the wind is just the wind, and still, at another you might for a moment capture the divine. Ascension and descension…Chaos and order…all this is symbolized in The Castillo. I think. Or are we just ants doing that which comes natural?

Relax said the night man
We are programmed to receive
You can check out any time you like
But, you can never leave…

Zelig X

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Friday, December 18, 1998

The Jesus Puppets

jesusp3.jpg (33428 bytes)

by

Zelig X


Oh we Oh, Ohhhh Oh, Oh we Oh, Ohhhh Oh

Would you cut that out?

Is this thing on? Test, test, one two three, test test. Jamison, there seems to be some distortion, could you fix that? Test, test, one two three, test test. There now, that’s better, could you give me a countdown?

Hello Ladies and Gentlemen and welcome to Zelig’s fireside Theatre, with tonight’s feature, "The Jesus Puppets". This evening's performance will begin after a brief message from one of our sponsors.

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And now, we begin tonight's presentation, "The Jesus Puppets".

The air was cold and still, the night darker than usual, owing to the thick fog that had settled on this city by the bay. Walking past closed shop windows, my mind slowly turned over recent events, the layoffs and flared tempers at my job, the recent fights with my wife. It occurred to me as I strolled along that all of nature was conspiring against me. The fog which had so recently descended upon and darkened my city seemed to mirror the fog which had so recently descended upon my own life. It was with a heavy heart that I walked this night. I sought diversion. But, all the shops had closed early and I found myself staring absently through shop windows. There I would stand; thinking of events until eventually some object on display would break through my consciousness. I would find myself staring a moment, a moment of relief as the object diverted my attention and then again I would turn to walk and again return to my troubled thoughts. Until arriving at the next window and repeating the sequence.

It was perhaps an hour into this melancholy walk that when once again roused from my own thick fog of despair, I found myself staring at a hideously carved puppet. The sign next to the display advertised simply, Jesus Puppet. "Jesus Puppet", I spoke out loud to myself. I leaned nearer the window, the display momentarily obscured by a reflection of myself, I peered at the puppet, studying it’s crude design. What a simple work, Jesus Puppet in deed, it looked nothing like it’s namesake. An obvious work of devious genius, I reflected to myself and then halted as I remembered that I had seen one of these before. All at once, I recalled that it was in the local paper when a building of some religious organization was burned to the ground. The only clue that had been left behind was one of these Jesus Puppets, which somehow linked the arson to a rival organization known as… know as... But, that was all the details of the article that I could remember. That a building had been burned and a picture of one these puppets that had been left behind. I stared at the ground a moment trying to recapture the story and failing, took another look at the puppet on display. Odd, I thought, and turned to resume my walk. And still, I could not shake the image of the puppet and the sinister implications it carried.

I resumed my walk in a growing cloud of despair and foreboding, something sinister was eating it’s way into me. I turned events over, making loose connections and somehow always, my thoughts returning to the Jesus Puppet and the news article; which I still couldn’t fully remember. It was as if I felt myself plummeting into some dark intrigue. Suddenly, a withered woman tugged at my sleeve, first asking for change, and then as I brushed her aside she began to sing, "Roll me over in the clover, roll me over in the clover, well, roll me over in the clover, brush me off and do it again". Walking on and ignoring her curses, I looked up to take my bearings. Lights glowed and waned in roiling fog and faintly, the sound of distant music seemed to beckon me onward. Impulsively, I walked towards the music, glad to be moving with some direction, away from the woman and away from the puppets. The music grew louder, soon, I found myself standing before a playhouse. People in long jackets were climbing out of a van and milling about. Feeling much heartened to once again be among the living, I reached into my pocket, thoughtlessly extracting some change which I exchanged for a ticket.

We hope that you have been enjoying tonight's presentation of "The Jesus Puppets" brought to you by Zelig's Fireside Theatre. We will now pause for a brief message from one of our sponsors.

In a world where nothing is as it seems, only one man can stem the tide of destruction and madness. Join Graphite productions as arch-hero Zelig X battles the corrupt forces of E.N.N.U.I. Witness the terrifying evil disguised as akrantzf.jpg (5702 bytes) kindly woman named Mrs. Krantz, who claims that she only wishes to love and cherish Zelig. It's a wild ride as the brilliantly adapted to web page plot twists and unfolds. What evil forces lurk behind the buzz of Mrs. Krantz's razor? Join Zelig as he travels halfway across the country to find out. Thrill as Zelig unmasks the sinister identity of the Grand Poobah and defuses the depraved E.N.N.U.I. plot to take over the world. You don't want to miss the action when Mrs. Krantz Returns From Holiday. Mrs. Krantz Returns From Holiday, now viewable online!

We now return to tonight's presentation of "The Jesus Puppets".

As I stepped into the dimly lit vestibule of the playhouse, an elderly gentleman held out his hand for my ticket then guided me towards a curtained entrance, "Right this way, sir." I thanked the old gentleman and stepped through the curtain, pausing momentarily as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I noticed movement in the peripheral, somebody coughed, but the auditorium was otherwise sparsely populated. "Is there no escape from this interminable misery?" I wondered as I searched out a seat near the middle of the auditorium. As I took my seat, the stage curtain swept back and a man dressed in early nineteenth century attire stepped forth to welcome the audience.

"Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen to this evenings presentation of "The Lord of the Puppets" by Sir Winston Smith, performed by the Geek's New Age Travelling Puppet Company. The man bowed and stepped off to the right.

As the lights adjusted, an ominous music filled the theatre, I settled into an uneasy position in my seat, half ready to get up to flee and half ready to remain sitting. The stage was suddenly illumined with red light and a great figure dressed in black immerged upon the stage. The ominous quality of the music increasing by degrees as the figure demonstrated it’s might, taking great turns about the stage, as it wheeled about, I studied it’s costume, complete with cape and mask, a great shoe shine chamomile sat upon it’s head. This must be the Lord of the puppets I thought and as it reached to the right, thunder and lightning was produced to the right. It then reached to the left and thunder and lightning was produced to the left. I felt myself sliding back into the chair, enjoying the strange performance. The creature on stage continued it’s strange dance of power and might, again and again, reaching to the left or the right and producing thunder and lightning to either side. The music continued to gain momentum and ever increasing ominous proportions and suddenly ceasing, dying to a low roar, the creature on stage stopped and whirled, it’s cape following, cast it’s glance towards the audience it’s eyes glowing red, and falling at last upon…. Me…

"Zelig!" The beast roared and with horror I gripped my chair as the floor gave out beneath my feet and my chair flew toward the stage. I found myself unable to control myself, I screamed, "Nooooooooooo."

I stood upon the stage and slowly turning to face the audience, I beheld an army of…Jesus Puppets….

The Lord of the Puppets behind me, I felt his eyes burning through my back and his voice boomed…."It is no small thing, the offer I make you this night! All you have is but to accept!" The Lord of the Puppets spoke to all, even me, as if he spoke to each one individually.

The Jesus Puppets rose up and advanced towards the stage, surrounding and suffocating me, floating about my head. In a spell of terror, linking hands, we formed a circle about the stage and danced, the Lord of the Puppets called out, "Yes my child, you will accept my offer?" I and the Puppets danced in a circle, ever turning faster, chanting over and over, "Three times three times three, now the Lord of the Jesus Puppets is me, so mote it be." Finally, I could no longer maintain the speed and falling to the floor, the puppets rushed in and standing over me, till the Master yelled, "Back fools!" and they cleared away, revealing the great black clad figure, red eyes glaring, staring down upon me, his voice thunders, "And now, have you decided? Make no mistake my child, it is no small thing I have offered you this night." As he speaks, I find myself back in the audience, sitting amongst the Jesus Puppets, and the Lord of the Puppets is again speaking to all, even me, as if speaking to each one individually. "I offer you mine own power, to rise above the faceless masses of your race, for you are the one chosen to be their Master, for they are all miserable little Jesus Puppets, all you have is but to accept!" An evil nature stole over me and recognizing it as my own, I gave it reign. I saw it all, how I would wield power over the masses, I was the chosen one! An ecstatic fever rushed through the audience, the Jesus puppets eyes glazed and burned, now I was them as they were me as you are me and we are all together, sitting on a cornflake waiting for the van to come.

The End

jesusp2.jpg (49970 bytes)

Dec 1998

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Saturday, October 31, 1998

Zelig's Demon

His left-hand rests reassuringly upon my shoulder while the right sweeps toward the monitor, "This," he says with an innocent smile, his eyes dancing, "Is quite funny!" And laughing all the more innocently, his voice rising to a hearty bellow, "BESIDES, FUCK EM IF THEY CAN'T TAKE A JOKE!" his finger poised over the send button, he slaps me on the back, "Good work son!"

"Right," I say, "Fuck em! It'll be funny to read the responses!" I tap the send key. GONE. I reread what I have written, slowly digesting my mocking words, my smile fades as my stomach suddenly turns. My demon hovers over my shoulder, and looking smug. "What," I ask, "If they don't get it? What," I think again, "If someone is insulted?"

"Feeling exposed?" My Demon asks? "Well," Checking to see if my mail was sent, "Too late," He says with delight, "You know what they say about those who live in glass houses", a short, cold little laugh, and continues, all irony, "You'll just have to ride this one out!" Bending down, my demon whispers, "And besides", moving closer still, as I fearfully meet those mocking eyes, looking deep within, drawing me under, the darkness closes and my mind is filled with his voice. "FUCK YOU IF YOU CAN'T TAKE A JOKE!"

...And I can still hear him laughing.

1998

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Wednesday, July 15, 1998

I Went Outside Today (oh boy)

In anticipation of a potential lull in the mail, I took precaution several weeks ago by requesting my wife to procure a pair of walking shoes. For the last several months I have literally warn a path with my bare stocking feet from my computer to the refrigerator (You may recall, the place where I keep all my Hamms).

Due to mail today (oh boy), or rather, the lack there of, I thought of those shoes sitting on the shelf in our large spacious walk in closet. One could walk for days in that closet and still not find the skirt he loaned to Hak several months ago. However, success! Today, I located my walking shoes (oh boy).

I expended great effort at removing the wadded up paper inside said walking shoes and spent 20 minutes threading and re-threading the laces. Then it turns out that they don't match. One is a size 7 and a half and the other an 8. I wear an 8 and a half. Geek, stop snickering, that's not polite. I cut off the front ends and they fit just fine.

Just to be sure, as I was quite warn out already, I checked email one last time. Nothing, zip, zero, nada no how, not even a communiqué from fearless leaders. I took a deep breath, and approached my front door. Would it open? Or, would it still be locked from the outside? Would there be shoe salesmen on the other side. What a horrible thought. "No Sir, I don't need new shoes, these ones are just fine."

Somehow I found the courage and took that first step. Just as the door was swinging menacingly shut, my wife called to me from the kitchen. "Honey!", she said, "Can you check the mail?" I answered back, "Hey, why don't you put on some shoes and get out of the kitchen and stop having babies all the time!" She threw the keys at me. Real hard like. I deftly caught them as they bounced off my forehead.

Sheesh, I was off to a bad start. First time out in months and already tasked with chores. On the way to the mailbox, I sighted one of my neighbors. I immediately became uncomfortable and stared at my protruding toes, sickly noting I had forgotten to put on socks. As my neighbor approached I pretended to drop my keys so I wouldn't have to acknowledge his existence as he passed. It worked.

I got to the mailbox and was relieved to find that my copy of PC world had arrived. I left the bills there however. I didn't feel like getting into anymore "hot water" with "the little woman". She always gets irate when she sees the phone bill and wants to know where all these 900 number calls are coming from. Like I know, or something.

On the way back I spotted my neighbor returning from his existential trip to God knows where or who cares, but again, he was coming right at me. I immediately became uncomfortable again and started looking around. I stared straight up at the sky as if I was looking at something. It worked, as he looked up I ran right past him. I got back in the house as quick as possible, took off my shoes and put on a pair of socks. Feeling so much better and relieved to be back home, I decided to share the horror with you all. Let me tell you, I won't try that again for some time.

Zelig X
1998

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Monday, May 18, 1998

Obstructions to Enlightenment in the Age of Information

Obstructions to Enlightenment in the Age of Information

CIS-001

Research Paper

Zelig X

May 11, 1998

Outline

OBSTRUCTIONS TO ENLIGHTENMENT IN THE AGE OF INFORMATION

I. THESIS STATEMENT

A. Quality of Information
B. Flow of Information

II. BRIEF HISTORY

A. Military Might Vs. Information
B. Progression
C. Structure of Power
D. The Printing Press

III. 20TH CENTURY

A. The Information Age
B. Definition of Information
C. Five Sources

IV. WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE

A. Information Overload
B. Information Exiles
C. Information Manipulation

V. SOLUTIONS

A. William Wresch
B. Dan Lacey
C. Gerry Spence

VI. CONCLUSION

Obstructions to Enlightenment in the Age of Information

How often does one stop to reflect on the quality of the information that bombards them on a daily basis? Perhaps from time to time, the question is posed the quality discerned, and a general feeling of apprehension borne. However, the onslaught proves relentless, numbing and convincing. No, one finds going with the flow easier than to question. This paper attempts to discuss that flow of information, questioning both quality and direction and seeking to prove, in my Gen. X vernacular, information doesn't always flow, sometimes, it sucks.

Brief History

From the beginning, (while not going so far as to say, "the logos", for the scope of this paper is too small) to the present day, information served and continues to serve as the primary tool of power. Though virtues of "military might" may often be cited, 'tis information, which gives kings their swag and sway. Walk with me.

Polonius: What do you read, my lord?

Hamlet: Words, words, words. (Shakespeare)

(And yet), the conveyance of information through words allowed the forebears of modern humanity to establish first settlements, then tribes and villages, with the ensuing progression leading to empires and nations. Through words, alliances take form, trades made, bargains struck, and battle plans come to fruition. With advancement in the technology of information, this conveyance of words, profound change befalls the power structure of society.

To wit, consider if you will, the structuring of power brought about by the printing press. Prior to the printing press, books, as repository of information, although existing, short supply conclusively limited the requirement to read principally to the culturally elite. In short, the literate held the reigns of power, while the masses found themselves held to laws and decree, which, predictably, they could not even begin to decipher.

With the advent of Johannes Gutenberg's printing press in 1452, books began to flourish and literacy increased. However, the overall effect failed to empower the individual or local government, and instead acted to strengthen central government, or as it was, the Popes and Kings. "The rule of established and known law, uniform throughout a domain, became possible." (Lacy, pg. 27)

The 20th Century

The 20th Century witnessed the greatest and most rapid advancements in information technology in history. Examples include telegraphy, telephone, radio, television, satellite communications, and computers. With the explosion of information available through the new media came, "The Information Revolution" and we today, live and work in the midst of "The Information Age". (Wresch, pg. 5) We may wisely observe the power structure of society not only profoundly changed, but also continues to change at an unprecedented rate.

Driving this unprecedented rate of change is the sheer amount of information itself. Information, in the form of data is not only collected and stored but disseminated through the various media as well. William Wresch, In his book, Disconnected, postulates that "if we are to discuss an information explosion and define this as the information age, it would be helpful to begin by defining what information is." Wresch reasons that "information is not a neutral object to be discovered and counted, but an expression shaped from the very beginning by the creators of that information." (Wresch pg. 7)

Wresch lists and explores five major sources of information: public information, personal information, organizational information, professional information, and commercial information. (Wresch pg.8) For the sake of brevity, this paper refrains from exploring these individual sources. Instead, the remainder, as promised, explores some of the negative aspects of the quality and flow of information today.

Welcome To The Jungle

"Welcome to the jungle, it gets worse here every day" (Guns and Roses)

The amount of information available today can be overwhelming. Information comes from the radio, the television, books, newspapers, computers, telephones, our family, our friends, our employers and even our fellow employees. We are awash in information. The affects of so much information have given rise to a new science, known as cognitive science. "…which has had a couple decades to pull together and examine mountains of research on how people think, speak, see, reason, and listen. And in general, the news is not very good." (Wresch pg. 200) "The daily flow of communication is enormous, far above the capacity of any individual, indeed, of society itself to absorb as it passes." (Lacey pg. 152). When we have too much coming at us, we begin to filter, which leads to the personal dilemma of determining just what to filter. Author Richard Saul Wurman, has labeled this phenomena in a book by the same name as Information Anxiety (Wresch pg. 6)

While a vast amount of information exists, "the number of people totally removed from the information infrastructure is huge." (Wresch pg. 12) "Even within the advanced Western powers, the contrast in power and wealth between the corporations and individuals trained and equipped to use the information resources of those societies and the marginally literate poor tears at the social fabric and is perhaps the greatest threat to the public welfare." (Lacey pg. 154) The information exists, but can the individual reach it and once reached, will that individual have the education to use it? "Early indications are that the disconnected will fare far worse than their predecessors in previous revolutions. The gap between the rich and the poor, the knowing and the ignorant, will be larger, the room along the margins far smaller." (Wresch pg. 12)

For the information rich another problem exists: The media knows who you are, it knows where you live and it knows what makes you tick. In his book, From Freedom to Slavery, The Rebirth of Tyranny in America, Gary Spence speaks at great length about the tyranny of those who purport to bring us information. Spence writes, "The immensely rich and powerful corporations of this country can buy access to the public mind, can form public taste, and can create public opinion. These corporations can invade our minds and change our likes or dislikes, our ideas, our values, and even our personalities." (Spence pg. 147) The media targets the information rich continuously and relentlessly 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, right through the television, the radio, the newspaper and now, the computer. Spence further states, "Few social psychologists doubt that redesigning the human mind has become the long-term objective of corporate America." (Spence pg. 148)

Solutions

"Most worrisome for me was that as I looked for solutions, they seemed less and less technological." (Wresch pg. xii)

For those "third world" members starving or barely sustaining existence much less taking part or benefiting from the exchange of information, placing another communications satellite in orbit or doubling the capacity of a CPU chip is not the answer. Nor, on closer inspection, does it appear a viable answer for those of us already overloaded or to those arguably enslaved by corporate media. Sometimes, more of the same is simply more of the same. For possible solutions, this paper offers some words of wisdom from its reference material authors.

Concerning information overload, William Wresch writes, "Brilliant, well-educated, well-connected people can also miss most of what is happening in the world. In fact, it is quite likely that they will. All it requires is that they take a part of the world and explore it to the exclusion of everything else. … If we are to prepare for the free flow of information, one place to start working is on our own perceptions." (Wresch, pg. 15)

In his book, From Grunts to Gigabytes, Dan Lacey writes, "To achieve an equitable flow of benefits from the new technology, it is not necessary that all should become sophisticated computer users. What is essential is that the structure of society should make the products of the new communications skill available to all. Successive advances in communications technology and skills have given us an almost inconceivable power both to master and shape reality and share that capacity benignly throughout society. How we use that power and how broadly we share it will depend on our wisdom and our will" (Lacey, pg. 179)

And finally, Gary Spence offers, " … when we have taken back our power, when we again control our airways and our voices can again be heard on every major issue that effects our freedom, when we know that we truly guide the ship of state, the character of the media will have also changed. Then truth, then in-depth analysis, then the presentation of facts (no matter how complex), then responsibility, yes, then art, too will take precedent over the silly, the mundane, the false and the empty" (Spence pg. 154)

To paraphrase Spence,

"Keep it Free!"

Conclusion

If this admittedly short paper, managed to raise any level of concern, any question respecting the quality or direction of flow of that information and media constituting the "Information Age", then partial success is claimed. For, to solve a problem, it must be admitted that a problem exists. Many would have us believe that things are better and that they can only continue to get better. And, given to conditions, they may be right. However, this writer believes that society can only claim that things are getting better if they are getting better equally for everyone within that society. No segment can be overlooked. If the "Information Age" brings about a Global Village or One World Government, then no segment of that Village, of this World, can be overran, manipulated or left behind, else…The Information Age must be found either in default of it's promise or without.

References

Wresch, William. (1996). Disconnected Haves and Have-nots in the Information Age. New Brunswick, New Jersey: Rutgers University Press.

Lacey, Dan. (1996) From Grunts To Gigabytes. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press.

Spence, Gary. (1993) From Freedom To Slavery, The Rebirth Of Tyranny In America. New York: St. Martin's Press.

Wurman, R.S. (1989) Information Anxiety: What to Do When Information Doesn't Tell You What You Need to Know. New York: Basic Books

Shakespeare, William HAMLET. Act II, Scene II http://www.hamlet.edmonton.ab.ca/act2sc2.htm

Guns and Roses. (1987). Welcome To The Jungle. Appetite For Destruction. Recorded at Rumbo Studios, Canoga Park, California; Take One Studio, Burbank, California; Can Am Studio, Tarzana, California

Cover Picture: Big Brother and The Holding Company. http://www.bbhc.com/band.htm

Big Brother's Pyramid http://www.angelfire.com/or/GeorgeOrwell/#oceania

Buddha http://quietmountain.com/dharmacenters/buddhadendo/TENDAI.HTM

The Cure, (1989) The Same Deep Water As You (Midi file), from track 9 on Disintegration

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Sunday, June 22, 1997

Seaside, Oregon - 87

She holds me tight, runs her fingers through my hair
She says that now it's safe, just like when she was a child
She talks about the pine needles
The gray clouds
The rain that's been coming down all day
She says that she could forsake all her tomorrows
If everyday were just like today
Going on from here means facing the heartbreak
She says she just doesn't think she has the strength
She says that she remembers macramé pot holders
Windows let in the sun shown on wind swept beaches
Waves breaking on the shore
Sitting on the front steps eating ice cream cones
And she thinks that if she lets go
It can only mean one thing
On a rainy afternoon you can never let go
All the things your heart holds dear
She says that now it's safe
She talks about the pine needles
The gray clouds
The rain that's been coming down all day

And just for a moment I think
It might be safe to let it all go to hell

Zelig 97

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Friday, April 18, 1997

Hugh

Hugh

Note: I originally wrote this in the Spring of 96 simply as notes to myself with the intention that it serve as a sort of written memory. And so it does, however, the following year in Oct of 97 as a new member of the venerable Cult of Squishy Bear of Latter Day Graphites, and bearing (pun intended) witness to a group which highly prizes such accounts of daily existence, I found myself digging it up and emailing it out.

...

The homeless have always stirred some curiosity as to how they arrived at such status. There are all manners of reason as to the homeless phenomena in this so called modern age, ranging from circumstances of those called victims of the post industrial age to those suffering from mental deficiency. However, it is the individual who has chosen such a lifestyle which has always stirred the greatest curiosity.

The following documents one spring morning in which...and although the opportunities abound...I found myself talking to such a person. Hugh forced me to take notice of the day, to question if such opportunities abound, why does it so seldom occur? Is it simply that we are too successful, the pace of our lives too fast? Hugh was like a two-way mirror on the world, both reflecting it and seeing through it. From the expensive lunches to the expensive cars, Hugh could spot an empty shell of pampered existence a mile away.

If you ever have the time, take a moment to not only observe, but to talk with a member of those who are observing us.

Hugh
email one

I have a story to tell you. Today, after I dropped my wife off at work in downtown San Francisco, I had the kids but I wasn't in a hurry to get home. I dropped a uniform off at a dry cleaners on Hyde street (muster 0815 Monday) then circled around in the vicinity of Hyde and Pacific looking for a legitimate parking spot, quite frustrating. (At the cleaners I had parked at a passenger loading only spot) Quite an expensive area, this isn't my story by the way, eight bucks for breakfast (I shared with the kids).

Such a nice sunny day (cliche), I didn't feel like getting home right away. What to do, with the kids, drove around, we saw a Catholic church (you can spot them a block away) with a park in front and better yet, a vacant parking spot (metered, one hour limit). In front of the church, it might be a cathedral (not sure) we parked.

There were elderly Chinese doing tai chi (chuan) in the park, there were many elderly Chinese people in this park, not all doing tai chi. We stood square center across the street from the church (or cathedral) kneeling down with my son and daughter looking up. For a moment (shall we) contemplate the beauty of the created...

We are then disturbed by a harsh sound, behind us. A man, a ruddy man, a ruddy homeless man, not young, bearded, marching across the park swinging a cane over his head and though not altogether coherent, I made out, "Go back to China!", nor does this person appear to be sane. Well aren't (not found in Merriam Webster's) I the eye of the hurricane, the elderly Chinese look not worried in the least, my family is in his path, his eyes lock on; my daughter has strayed a short way from me, comes nearer, lightly holds my leg. The danger passes, two elderly Chinese women smile knowingly, watching his back. But this is not the story I set out to tell you.

We venture further into the park, (small park, it has a name, it's at the tip of my tongue) spy a playground (sand, swings, slide) proceed, arrive. Lot's of Chinese children here. Hmm. Elderly Chinese, (very) young Chinese, there must be something to this tai chi (j/kidding, the parents must be at work, but I see that only the very young and the very old have time to play. Is something as orderly as tai chi play? I don't know, I must bust out of these parenthesis). Stepping onto the sand, attention, my story begins here.

It's not really a story, I just want to tell you about this homeless man I met here.

But where to begin, where to begin? Like the rest of this, we walk into situations with so many preconceived... uh uh, preconceived notions.

Well, I have to leave to go pick up my wife from work and my uniform from the dry cleaner, so it's likely that I shall never finish this, just when... I will tell you the most important part. We talked for maybe forty five minutes. Maybe an hour and forty-five minutes... Philosophy. I recall my philosophy instructor once saying that the philosophy, the wisdom today, is in the streets. This man was so incredibly articulate, he spoke of Kafka (And, I know my Kafka), Thoreau, Emerson, "the" bible, the Kennedy's (yep!!), Rockefeller, Hinduism, Buddhism, Muhammad (in 45 min...seemingly) that he left me without a shred of doubt in my mind that... Jesus was a great prophet, but just that. But just that...

I also realized that if Jesus were here today, most of us would mistake him for someone else.

I said, "Sir, I have to leave, I didn't catch your name."

His name was Hugh, I shook his hand. Like Kurt Vonnegut said in his book, Jailbird - Peace.

Zelig '96

Hugh
email two

After we shook hands and I was turning to leave, Hugh suddenly gestured that he had one last revelation. He then produced perhaps 20 worn and folded pieces of paper from a breast pocket and presented me with one, asking that I "wait until later to read this". With my small son in my arms and young daughter trailing, I walked in a thoughtful daze towards my car...And before I was there...Turned back

And Hugh was already gone...

At some point in his travels, Hugh hand copied some words inscribed in a piece of granite, located at the Rockefeller Center in NYC. Apparently, Hugh took these inspiring words as a mission statement. From New York City to San Francisco, who knows how many he has distributed(?)

Zelig '97

P.S. At some point in our conversation Hugh told me, "I only buy shoes, everything else is what I find or people give me. All you need is a comfortable pair of shoes."

To see a JPEG of the piece of paper Hugh handed me, click here.

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Saturday, January 06, 1996

Untitled

Untitled by Stephen Jenkins

...

As if contempt were tangible
You could drown within the borders of its deep sticky waters
blind yourself stupid
with self-pity and a fatigue of horrid visions
a despair stalking and beating you
with thoughts conjured by all too willing need.

My face is taut amid my seizures
tears warbling from white and glassy eyes
my throat constricts with sufferings misunderstood
No word can be enough!
No thought could change the world!
I
am
powerless.
One man, one complex soul -- flung amid a sea untranquil.

I learned how to survive, but not how to save myself
Became adept at grasping, but never holding --
And holding on while never finding a grasp.
I left myself responsible for others
found the universe wanting of the will to be saved from itself
Corrupted my own existence with the guilt of failure
Locked up my own substance, held captive my fire
Quieted the August exuberance and the wailing November
and discovered more of myself than others find
Less than others come to see -- within themselves.

You, you, you, you do this to me!
Always did this to me
always with me, always emptied me:
I alone was there.
Too much without the world
too much within myself
Too too little that came to be!


6/1/95
Revised 1/6/96


Regards,
Jinx

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Tuesday, October 31, 1995

In The Autumn

All that which is not alive
Is not necessarily dead
And all that which is not dead
Is alive
In mind
And dreams
In books
Pages turned yellow with time
And photographs
Yesterday I walked down a trail
That led to my imagination
And thoughts lain dormant
Sprang to life

Beneath the sun
I waited for you for half an hour
And turned to leave
My heart clenched
My head cast at my feet
Fell upon my shadow
Oh meaningless and small
This day is nothing
Where were you
When I turned around
And everything
Even the sky
Exploded into color
And I felt life surge
Like the wind through the trees
Against the clouds
And blue sky backdrop
All mine but...
Where were you then?

Always somewhere
Beneath the sun
Shines on and on
And it's always summer
And books never grow old
And people never die
And the sun never fades
And the end never comes
And you're always there

With me it's always the same
The last time that I saw you

Zelig X, 95

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Sunday, December 25, 1994

Christmas Again

Christmas Again. Like all the Christmas’s before. Like the flicker of a candle, a second hand’s path across a clock. A moment among moments, if only for a moment. A friend among friends, like all dear friends before. Like flannel shirts on cold days, a second hand present from an older brother. Comfort for the present, if only for a moment. The comfort of dear Friends and Christmas alone brings presents among the many presents, if only for a moment. Like the flicker of a candle, a second hand’s path across a clock. A day among days. Days go by and it’s Christmas again. Christmas again. Like all the Christmas’s before.

Zelig X
94

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Friday, December 16, 1994

WHAT IS AND WHAT SHOULD NEVER BE

Cold morning waking up. Bright light pours through living room window. Sit stretch yawn scratch, lay back down. Look out window, nimble eyes meet white and bright glare and behold yet another small miracle of nature. Tiny white snow flakes floating gentle descent to cousins lay melting on the pavement... 32 degrees fahrenheit outside my living room window. Roughly 78 degrees fahrenheit inside my living room. Roughly 98.6 degrees fahrenheit snuggled up in warm blankets stretched out on my mattress in the living room. Thoughts turn to something hotter. Coffee would be a fine way to spend this morning alone looking out the window at snow. Already some has melted and some has stuck and some more is falling yet and coffee is steaming in my cup. I fold up covers and return my mattress to broken bed in my bedroom. Adjust the heat, roughly 78 degrees. Hot coffee. Sixteen years old. Cold cereal for breakfast something terribly sweet. Kitchen table covered with cat hairs books papers cereal bowl coffee cup but I sit alone. All the while white snow flakes gently descend and melt or stick on pavement but always white and always falling beneath gray white clouds and bright glare of early morning light.

Always alone too. 165 dollar stereo with double cassette deck plays Led Zeppelin II while I drink a second cup of coffee and spoon third bowl of sweetened vitamin enriched cereal and read the back of the box. Peer inside for the surprise. The cat creeps out from behind the curtain jumps out of the way of thrown object surprise hisses disappears gone again alone. Drinking hot coffee on the living room couch roughly 78 degrees fahrenheit inside 32 degrees outside. I wonder who will be the first to call today. Maybe Rod or maybe Troy or maybe Cooper or maybe...(Later Troy took his life, but that was many years later) And what is the plan today? Maybe the mall. Or shovel driveways for some extra cash and go to a movie. Or watch tv or listen to music Led Zeppelin is our favorite group or draw pictures and maybe theres a party tonight or there's this girl I know. Or maybe I'll just sit here and drink coffee all day and watch the snow. As long as it keeps up, as long as it keeps up falling down.

All this seems like yesterday, yet there are holes and some things are missing. None of the least of which is my friend Troy. I don't know if Troy came around that day. He doesn't come around these days. Rod and Cooper and the others are alive, in fact they're married or mostly all married but never come around. That is to say, I don't wait for them to call.

Zelig X
1994

Writing style inspired by "Dog Years", a novel by Gunter Grass

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Sunday, July 03, 1994

Mall Rats and Black Cats

In the market for something…
It’s a life these days
When something catches your eye
And in your heart it always stays

Greasy little man in a suit and tie
Catches your glance and comes across to you
In the market for something…
It’s his life these days

And he asks…

Would you like some sugar for your tea?
Isn’t is sweet security?
Saw a little black cat
Sitting on your windowsill

And just the other day
Little grease stain on your best tie dye
Catches your eye and there it stays…
Guess it’s time to change

I said hey hey hey hey hey hey…
Sitting on the windowsill
Sitting on the windowsill
Sitting on the windowsill

And he thinks…

I saw it sitting on the windowsill
And I wonder how it got there still

I said hey hey hey hey hey hey…

Sitting on the windowsill
It’s sitting on the windowsill
Little black cat
Sitting on your windowsill

In the market for something…
It’s a life these days
When something catches your eye
And in your heart it always stays

I said hey hey hey hey hey hey…

Zelig
94

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Saturday, June 18, 1994

Epitasis Of The Tequila Kid

Even for a moment
Steady now
Then tottering…
Eyes and head roll round
Looking for even ground
In life and art
Sickness and health
Ancient art escapes me
And today
I crumpled at your feet
Weaker and weaker
I looked until
I found your fault
And lay down
Nothing and dark and black
And nothing and dark and black
Like silence
Torn by the wind

There's no rest
On sultry nights
Here in South Texas
When youth and ignorance go
Unforgiven
A lifetime wasted
In the prime
Strangled and twisted
And dwindling
And holding on yet
To thin ground
And madness

Zelig X
94

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Friday, June 17, 1994

The View

You wouldn’t believe me
If I sat on the roof
Past midnight I pulled a chair up there
And gazed ... the stars and moon
Obscured by clouds that night
And the wind through the trees
Felt like an open book
The world burst open
And inviting to close my eyes
As hearts heave sighs
Wanting, wanted, forgotten

Hidden chambers sprawled
Beneath the clouds
Illuminated by the city
Silently marching across the sky
While everyone was dreaming
In that hall of silence
No hollow word can breach
I looked…
Upon the street, glistening
Distinct and sullen
Belying
Truth…no-one speaks
And truth just the same
Reproachful and silent

These are shadowlands
These are the hands of time
Dreaming is the death of conscious

I might just die
And it wouldn’t matter...
Dreaming and awaking
And realities ascetic bite
Just like the old days
This day too
Would pass

My world in transition
And beautiful

Zelig X
94

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Tuesday, January 18, 1994

Dialogue Between The ONE And The OTHER

Dialogue Between The ONE And The OTHER

Lying in bed one night after studying a book on Zen, my mind reeled as I struggled to grasp the concepts of all that I had read. I understood that Zen is both a philosophy and religion and that it's major purpose is to help the individual deal with the pain of birth and death. Only my mind would not accept that a philosophy that maintains that in an ultimate sense there is nothing to teach and nothing to learn, nothing to seek and nothing to find - could really help anyone. And if this is truly the case, why is there private instruction, why severe training? In deed, why Zen at all? How is it that I had read so much on the matter and still couldn't define what Zen is?

Then after much concentrated effort, when I was finally ready to give up, I sprang out of bed and wrote the following:

The Way And The Monk

Someone said "I have come here seeking answers."
One said "The answer is Zen."
The other asked "What is Zen?"
One said "Zen is a journey without destination."
The other asked "Then why go?"
One said "You have already begun."
The other asked "Which way do I go?"
One said "When you run out of questions you will go
the way that you came."
The other asked "But what of my questions?"
One said "I thought you came here seeking answers."
The other said "I did"
One said "Then if you're done asking questions be on
your way."

The other said "Enough of this non-sense, I have
learned nothing here."
One asked "Have I not answered your questions?"
The other said "You speak in riddles, how would I know?"
One asked "What is it you wish to know?"
The other said "I don't know"
One said "So you'll be staying for supper I suppose."

Zelig X, 94

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Sunday, October 31, 1993

Dream Sequence

It's October. Not that it feels the way October does in the city. Truthfully I never have any physical feeling in my dreams. Just that that's the way the light falls on the street, in this particular dream. Nor does it being October have any real significance either, with the rest of the dream. As if notice of the month were in any way a significant part of it. But somehow when I wake up the Octobery residue of the dream is all that I can immediately remember. It's only by focusing on the way the light fell on the street, that I can begin to remember the rest. Why I should ever want to, I don't know. Anyway, I never realize this till it's too late.

So like I said, beginning from the beginning, it's October and I'm walking downtown. No, not walking, more like floating. Floating past shop windows set in old buildings. Suddenly the red brick of building gives way to an abrupt 90-degree turn into an alley. Not what the eye immediately takes in, but apparent in the background is litter, litter strewn all about. But what certainly catches ones eye, and draws attention away from the rubbish is a peculiarly placed easel. For here is an odd place to place an easel. But the painting placed on the easel is odder still.

A clown. Not that paintings of clowns are particularly rare, or odd. Perhaps odd gives way to curious apprehension, for the clown immediately appears menacing. Not in the white paint disguising the face of a middle aged man, nor the likewise painted baldhead. It's something in the deep dark eyes that show not childish joy, but betray malevolent intelligence. The canvas and frame hone courage, yet the animation portrayed in the eyes threatens to defy reality. The eyes, they draw, they hold, they challenge, daring me to look away. Suddenly a sense that I am evil and cruel overpowers my will, and I turn to flee.

Those eyes, where have I seen them before? I stop and turn back again to study the painting. But it is gone. On the ground, the spot where the easel had been sits a man. A vagrant, or transient, a homeless man, a bum, covered in rubbish and filth, dressed in what can only be called rags, a cup in his extended hand. And those eyes. The same ones as the painting. Had I actually been staring at this wretched outcast a moment before instead of a painting? Had I stared into his eyes with curious disgust and fear displayed on my face?

"What, what do you want!", the draggletailed tramp demands, "Do you have any change or not. Quit staring at me!" He continues his voice slowly rising with vehemence, "What do you think I am, a sideshow freak, a goddamn kiddy show clown?"

I stand there frozen. I can't speak. Shame and disgust are all I can feel. The man is still yelling, shaking his fist, and making an effort to rise. I see him placing his hand, and sickly realize, into a puddle of his own vomit. Now he's clutching at it, trying to pick it up. I start to edge back.

"Oh you're a dandy, look at you in your rich shoes. But you won't give a man who's down on his luck a quarter." The beggar continues while still attempting to scoop up his putrid vomit. "Get away!" he screams, "You make me sick! I can't stand the sight of you!"

Suddenly I’m extending my arm with a quarter in hand. I can’t bear to move closer, I drop the quarter, it lands at arms reach from the wretch, and I turn and run. I run into the October sunlight feeling helpless and sick. Then calm and secure. The hazy sunlight falls sofley on the street and faded red brick of old buildings, and then slowly fades.

Awake! Damn, it's Saturday and I forgot to turn the alarm clock off the night before. Fumbling in the dark at 5:00 A.M., the clock is shut off and I lay drifting back to sleep, thinking of October. I love October. It seems like anything is possible in that magical month. I fall back to sleep, peaceful and dreamless.

Zelig X
1993

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Saturday, July 17, 1993

Tijuana

Cold Tecate with a touch a lemon when the sun gets in your eyes is the taste of Tijuana. I like to sit slumped under a cabanna with a cigarette while I watch droves of tourists pass by. That's the way we while away the afternoon hours in Tj. If you like, you can go with me. We'll catch the Trolley, walk over the border, on over to Tj. Cold Tecate's with a touch a lemon while the sun plays in your eyes, a taste of Tj. We'll sit in a cabanna and smoke cigarettes while the tourists pass us by while we pass away the day. Makes me think of pair'ee.

Zelig
93

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