And I"m not talking about either Christmas or the Beginning of the School Year. No, It's Election Time! Or as I refer to it as, time for Electile Dysfunction! And only the Red Pill will cure this one, not the Blue Pill (in either Matrix or Erectile Land).
NO. Elections are rigged. There, I said it. No matter whether you vote for Obama or That Other Guy, guess who is going to win?
Obama was allowed to win the last time, because... Well, because the economic shit was about to hit the fan, and they needed Somebody To Blame. Enter, Barack Obama. Not only a Democrat, but a Democrat of Color. ("See, I told ya one of Them would get us in trouble!") Can you spell Set Up?
So now they want one of Their Own back in office, and, enter Willard "Mitt" Romney. (Why are all the Mormon Higher Ups called "Willard?") Sorry to be blunt. (And I hope I'm just being paranoid.) Just like I predicted pre-Bush in 1998, I think that no matter who the "Popular Vote" comes in for, The Electile Dysfunction College with install ROMULUS into office instead of POTUS.
Just saying. And hope I'm wrong.
where you may find my 'Blogs From The Set' (written generally after the fact), general rants (Politics and Religion mainly), and in the future, sample chapters of my novels (as they get published online to start), and some of my short stories. Stay tuned...
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Saturday, November 3, 2012
The Internet and the Money Net
Hurricane Sandy is now history, and I'm sure living in New York City has not returned to anything approaching 'normal.' But what is the current condition of the City that Never Sleeps? Goddamned if I know, because no matter how I phrase it, it comes up with one 'current' condition -- you can't get any real information on the Internet, because everything is 'Monetized.' In other words, you only get what Those Who Pay Gobs of Money want you to see. Forget any real information. Google doesn't want to you to see any real information, but only what their Paid Advertisers have paid Lots of Gob Googly Money for you to see. It's pitiful, shocking, and God help us, the way the world works now. Nothing's (almost) free these days. Some Body's Got To Make Money on It.
Fuggedabout it!
Fuggedabout it!
Saturday, October 20, 2012
The Myth of “Whole Grain Goodness”
The Corporate
self-enthroned Kings of Crops are jumping on the whole foods bandwagon and
grinding it into the ground. By claiming the moniker “Whole Grain Goodness” for
their GMO uber-processed foods (especially cereal) they are killing the
‘goodness’ factor, and infecting the entire whole food movement in the process
(just like they are trying to do with all non-GMO crops).
And because the very
same Corporate Giants (monsters, really—where’s a monetized David with a room
full of lawyers when you need him?) essentially own the FDA (a Wholly Owned Subsidiary
of Monsanto) and Congress (Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Monsanto and Koch Bothers
Industries) now, this overtaking of Whole Foods and their inherent healing
properties is all the more monstrous.
To advertize that
their foods have “Whole Grain Goodness” is an abomination. First of all, their “Whole
Grain” foods are anything but. Then add on top of that, that those foods are
also Genetically Modified (adding everything from insect DNA to animal and
God-knows-what-else DNA to ‘grains’), they cease being ‘grains’ (or other food
‘components’) as well.
This is scurrilous and
false advertizing at its most demonic. It is taking what should be a
(especially to the Native Populations of the World) sacred component of all of
our lives, and twisting and perverting it (and Us in the process), into not
only the already stripped commodity that ‘food’ is, but making it further into
substances that will not only make its consumers sick (and thus needing all the
‘medicine’ that they will turn around and charge exorbitant amounts of money to
‘cure’ us with), but may also be in the process of killing all of us off.
I’ve included the link
below for you to follow for some tips on true food to eat.
There are also other
sources to look towards re: food as well, but too many to include here.
If you are still
eating meat and poultry (with the various hormones and other toxins/toxic
factory farming techniques), and seafood (heavy metals, and since the Japan
Tsunami, plutonium and other heavy Toxins), you should also consider dropping
those from your diet. Even factory-farmed fish have illnesses and parasites you
don’t want to ingest (and No, the FDA is not going to do Anything about Any of
This! See Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Monsanto.)
With Cancer on the
rise from both environmental as well as food-based causes, it is best to clean
up your food intake to stave off any illnesses you needn’t suffer from.
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Friday, October 19, 2012
Hatred, Judgement and Beliefs
I've been in a conundrum lately.
I would really like to step outside of Politics and political discussions, I'd like to leave behind any need to help correct, inform, or otherwise influence Others. I would like to let go of any outcomes of any sort, personal or planetary. But I'm not there yet. I need to evolve further to get to that point. But isn't that the whole point of it?
I've been seeing a lot about "Haters" and other extremely prejudiced individuals, and seeing the direct results of their attitudes manifested in the media. Now I wouldn't mind how someone thinks, except that those of such an extreme mindset (especially those who call themselves hardcore "Born Again Christians") somehow feel the need to convert -- through words, laws and/or violence -- any others who Don't Believe 'as they do.'
What came to me this morning (well, parts have come over the last few years), is the reiteration of Whatever you believe, you Create; "By your actions they shall know you." And by their actions you can know them.
Homophobic? Probably don't like those nasty urges to look at/be around other men (usually), and so place their fear and hatred safely outside of themselves. They also like to torture others for their crimes against man-hoodity.
I just read tonight however, of one Born Again Man who (on having one of his best friends come out to him as a lesbian) decided after years of hatred of 'homos' to become a 'gay man' for a year (to walk in another man's shoes)/sandals) and had his entire attitude change as a result. He became more tolerant, and reversed his years of discrimination. So change can occur.
I would really like to step outside of Politics and political discussions, I'd like to leave behind any need to help correct, inform, or otherwise influence Others. I would like to let go of any outcomes of any sort, personal or planetary. But I'm not there yet. I need to evolve further to get to that point. But isn't that the whole point of it?
I've been seeing a lot about "Haters" and other extremely prejudiced individuals, and seeing the direct results of their attitudes manifested in the media. Now I wouldn't mind how someone thinks, except that those of such an extreme mindset (especially those who call themselves hardcore "Born Again Christians") somehow feel the need to convert -- through words, laws and/or violence -- any others who Don't Believe 'as they do.'
What came to me this morning (well, parts have come over the last few years), is the reiteration of Whatever you believe, you Create; "By your actions they shall know you." And by their actions you can know them.
Homophobic? Probably don't like those nasty urges to look at/be around other men (usually), and so place their fear and hatred safely outside of themselves. They also like to torture others for their crimes against man-hoodity.
I just read tonight however, of one Born Again Man who (on having one of his best friends come out to him as a lesbian) decided after years of hatred of 'homos' to become a 'gay man' for a year (to walk in another man's shoes)/sandals) and had his entire attitude change as a result. He became more tolerant, and reversed his years of discrimination. So change can occur.
“Religious Freedom”
There has been a cry
on the Religious Right for some time now that “Christians” are being
“persecuted” – both here in the States and around the world. As if this was a
recent event, and that it is totally and completely uncalled for and must be
stopped.
While true that the
early Christians were persecuted (first by the Jews as an heretical outcropping
of Judaism), and then later by the Romans (who saw the new religion as
subversive to the State of Rome – indeed, the Cross was the Roman form of
punishment for Sedition Against Rome), religious persecution of “Christians”
has only been on the rise recently, and then mostly in conflict with Islam.
Now “Christians”
persecuting those with Other Religious Belief Systems has been around for
almost as long as the Christian Religion has. Since the Nicean Council of 364
“A.D.” the newly formalized (and ‘restructured’) Christian Church began
prosecuting (and outright murdering in some cases) any who did not believe The
One True Faith. This was particularly true for the Jews, who the Church began
calling the “Killers of Christ” from an early time, leading up to the Grand Inquisition. Working to ‘convert’ “heathen” to the
Church, many were either force converted (upon pain of death) and then
continued their practice in secrecy (the Ladino tradition in Spain), or killed
during the ‘conversion’ process. Many of those screaming “Christian Persecution”
choose not to remember who was persecuting whom for most of Church history.
“Religious Freedom” does not mean the
Freedom to impose Your Religion on Others. It means just that, the Individuals
Freedom to believe in and practice the Religion of their choice. This has not
however, been the case in the past, and it is not the desire or implication of
those who cry loudest for Their “Religious Freedom.”
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Excerpt from "The Raceway"
From the new collection "Dreams, Desires, And Dead Ends" All Rights Reserved.
©2012 Robert Alan Chappell -- Reproduction in part or in whole of this work constitutes property theft and will be prosecuted.
It was a time of great change, and the Mid-West does not like change. First there was us, the progeny of the changing nation which would later be called the Baby Boomer generation. We been born into the seeming prosperity of the aftermath of World War II, and for the time being were one of the welcomed changes occurring in their lives. That of course would change in just a few short years, centered around the years of '67, '68 and '69.
John F. Kennedy and Camelot were still in full swing, and he had just announced his intention to Go to the Moon. Viet Nam and The War At Home were only fragile nightmares for now. The deaths of the American Ideal that were the assassinations not even in the realm of nightmares as of yet.
And last but certainly not least, were the new motorways (as they were called then), the remaining legacy of Dwight Eisenhower, as far reaching in their consequences for the coming years as the Moon Adventure would be. The new Interstate Highway System. Long strips of continuos blacktop spreading and linking all of the major cities in ways that the old highways — often twisty-turny in nature following the whims of the landscape — would not be. These were supposed to be clean straight lines advancing to and expanding the horizon. The Age of the Motorcar.
And here I was, growing up in the epitome of speed and advancing metal, Indianapolis; home to The Speedway and The 500. Sleek shiny pods of metal screaming round and round the circular Pathway of Fate.
It was also the time of the advent of the (also seeming) Raceway inspired interchange systems designed to re-route long distance traffic around those cities, that would come to be known shortly as Beltways. These big loops had often ground through neighborhoods, leaving behind (for now) large gashes in the vegetation and housing. They were at this time, in the process of being born, and like many another change at this time, the birth was not without it muddy consequences.
that would be the later drainage system under this behemoth, were for now, ramps and tunnels for the gas-fueled dreams of youth.
We of course, the Progeny living within the growing radius of Sub-Urbia, would not find this gouging of the landscape (for now) objectionable. No, just the opposite. It allowed for us, living in the shadow of The Raceway, to carve the Raceway of our dreams in this man-made lunar landscape, not for screaming pods of metal, but for screaming bi-pedaled testosterone in the building. The just placed circular (tubular) concrete conduits that would be the later drainage system under this behemoth, were for now, ramps and tunnels for the gas-fueled dreams of youth.
We didn't have a sports team of note (at that time) to root for, but we did have The Speedway. It was, at that time, one of the few of its kind in the country, a hint of things to come. And we used that newly graded but not yet concreted path of the future to our own advantage, speeding around on our bikes, leaping over conduit and change for a time, remaking the larger landscape to our own pathways of dreams. I spent many an hour where my mother knew I was, going round and round.
And it was also the recent advent of The Mall. No longer would there be an old-fashioned town center where shops would be, but the clean, gleaming concrete tower of The Mall. The particular Mall that was close by me at that time, was a siren call to going 'further away from home' than I was 'supposed to be.' It was the lure of my coming gypsy life, taking me far afield from anything considered home.
My parents were not amused. And they also did not see the traveling from city to town far afield influence of my fathers constant need to be On The Road in my further and further wanderings. All they saw was that I was going where no child of theirs was supposed to go. Too Far.
I was an awkward, gangly, bespectacled twelve, entering into the throes of what in my later life would be called geek love. I was the eldest of three boys, so I didn't have an older brother to ask advice from, and I had an absent father who, when he did come home from being on the road, didn't have a lot of time for me and fatherly advice. In other words, I was on my own.
So I spent every waking hour that I could at Our Raceway, after school and on weekends. Racing round and round the circuit of dust and dirt, pretending that we were those Racers that were our heroes.
The only other siren call that was close by with nearly as much pull was the small one runway airport that was also within my bikes pedaling distance. What time I didn't spend at The Raceway, was spent there amidst the Pipers and smells of spilt airplane fuel. I stood glued to the chain link fence that separated me (for safety purposes) from the dream of speed aloft. This one would later replace The Raceway, and it's ground based transit mundi.
©2012 Robert Alan Chappell -- Reproduction in part or in whole of this work constitutes property theft and will be prosecuted.
It was a time of great change, and the Mid-West does not like change. First there was us, the progeny of the changing nation which would later be called the Baby Boomer generation. We been born into the seeming prosperity of the aftermath of World War II, and for the time being were one of the welcomed changes occurring in their lives. That of course would change in just a few short years, centered around the years of '67, '68 and '69.
John F. Kennedy and Camelot were still in full swing, and he had just announced his intention to Go to the Moon. Viet Nam and The War At Home were only fragile nightmares for now. The deaths of the American Ideal that were the assassinations not even in the realm of nightmares as of yet.
And last but certainly not least, were the new motorways (as they were called then), the remaining legacy of Dwight Eisenhower, as far reaching in their consequences for the coming years as the Moon Adventure would be. The new Interstate Highway System. Long strips of continuos blacktop spreading and linking all of the major cities in ways that the old highways — often twisty-turny in nature following the whims of the landscape — would not be. These were supposed to be clean straight lines advancing to and expanding the horizon. The Age of the Motorcar.
And here I was, growing up in the epitome of speed and advancing metal, Indianapolis; home to The Speedway and The 500. Sleek shiny pods of metal screaming round and round the circular Pathway of Fate.
It was also the time of the advent of the (also seeming) Raceway inspired interchange systems designed to re-route long distance traffic around those cities, that would come to be known shortly as Beltways. These big loops had often ground through neighborhoods, leaving behind (for now) large gashes in the vegetation and housing. They were at this time, in the process of being born, and like many another change at this time, the birth was not without it muddy consequences.
that would be the later drainage system under this behemoth, were for now, ramps and tunnels for the gas-fueled dreams of youth.
We of course, the Progeny living within the growing radius of Sub-Urbia, would not find this gouging of the landscape (for now) objectionable. No, just the opposite. It allowed for us, living in the shadow of The Raceway, to carve the Raceway of our dreams in this man-made lunar landscape, not for screaming pods of metal, but for screaming bi-pedaled testosterone in the building. The just placed circular (tubular) concrete conduits that would be the later drainage system under this behemoth, were for now, ramps and tunnels for the gas-fueled dreams of youth.
We didn't have a sports team of note (at that time) to root for, but we did have The Speedway. It was, at that time, one of the few of its kind in the country, a hint of things to come. And we used that newly graded but not yet concreted path of the future to our own advantage, speeding around on our bikes, leaping over conduit and change for a time, remaking the larger landscape to our own pathways of dreams. I spent many an hour where my mother knew I was, going round and round.
And it was also the recent advent of The Mall. No longer would there be an old-fashioned town center where shops would be, but the clean, gleaming concrete tower of The Mall. The particular Mall that was close by me at that time, was a siren call to going 'further away from home' than I was 'supposed to be.' It was the lure of my coming gypsy life, taking me far afield from anything considered home.
My parents were not amused. And they also did not see the traveling from city to town far afield influence of my fathers constant need to be On The Road in my further and further wanderings. All they saw was that I was going where no child of theirs was supposed to go. Too Far.
I was an awkward, gangly, bespectacled twelve, entering into the throes of what in my later life would be called geek love. I was the eldest of three boys, so I didn't have an older brother to ask advice from, and I had an absent father who, when he did come home from being on the road, didn't have a lot of time for me and fatherly advice. In other words, I was on my own.
So I spent every waking hour that I could at Our Raceway, after school and on weekends. Racing round and round the circuit of dust and dirt, pretending that we were those Racers that were our heroes.
The only other siren call that was close by with nearly as much pull was the small one runway airport that was also within my bikes pedaling distance. What time I didn't spend at The Raceway, was spent there amidst the Pipers and smells of spilt airplane fuel. I stood glued to the chain link fence that separated me (for safety purposes) from the dream of speed aloft. This one would later replace The Raceway, and it's ground based transit mundi.
The Perils of Un-Prepared
So I've been in the process of doing this crowdfunding thing (you know, PBS style asking for money without the large captive audience?), and I'm learning a lot -- unfortunately.
To fully do one of these things you need: a Crew; already have money; already have the Whole Thing laid out, and planned to the in-th degree. You live and learn.
Trying to self publish is already a learning curve. Unlike a Company doing it all for you (and taking a large cut of whatever sales you get), self publishing entails being all the departments of the Publishing House, doing it like a 40 hour a week (try 60?) job, and then... doing even more.
At this point, I'm just going to have to scale back whatever I need to do, do what I can, and... Wait. Isn't this the Serenity Prayer?
To fully do one of these things you need: a Crew; already have money; already have the Whole Thing laid out, and planned to the in-th degree. You live and learn.
Trying to self publish is already a learning curve. Unlike a Company doing it all for you (and taking a large cut of whatever sales you get), self publishing entails being all the departments of the Publishing House, doing it like a 40 hour a week (try 60?) job, and then... doing even more.
At this point, I'm just going to have to scale back whatever I need to do, do what I can, and... Wait. Isn't this the Serenity Prayer?
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