Bacon & Eggs

I look out at this country, my country, the US of A and I’m truly shaking my head in confusion. It has been known for a long time within the spins and spirals of humanity that some things are just bad, they have always been bad and will continue to be bad. Those are the Bacon’s of this world. Things like Hate, Violence, Fear, and Greed. I shake my head because we still have them. It’s like common sense, isn’t common after all and people are blind to their own pains and sufferings, or perhaps are a bunch of folk that just like feeling hurt for the fun of it. Trump is Greed and his cronies are greed and hate, while Putin tends to trend toward violence and fear… That’s just to point out the extremes within the Geo-Political community. Why? Why do they keep on force feeding all this negative crap into the world? Simple, they haven’t mastered the egg.

The egg is patience, is understanding, is compassion and sharing. The egg is the completion of social evolution, it’s top place to fathom, must and take into one’s personal and daily threshold. It takes a lot of effort by many people to create the egg. Just look at the chicken. They have to have food, water, a place to roam, a place to roost, and place to lay their eggs. The roost must have a roof, which takes teamwork by others to build. They must be protected from those who would eat the chickens before the eggs was laid, this also takes teamwork and effort. But in the end, with the hard work and effort, an egg can be laid and it offers two wonderful options, which in the first scenario, simply don’t exist. With the egg, we can grow more chickens or have eggs to eat and learn the wisdom of the process.

What I see in the world right now on so many fronts is a reluctance to let go of the powerful deadly sins and work together for something better. I can’t say for anyone person why there is that reluctance. For some it may be laziness, for others it may be what they grew up into and haven’t a wish to change as long as they get want they desire. Or perhaps it’s all about the fear and hate of what is different and an unwillingness to understand the other half the equation.

I see the American Political Machine destroying the chances for many future eggs. I see many other countries leadership doing the same thing. Yet, what I don’t see is an outcry of action that goes against the sins. It’s almost as if people fear the fear of taking action and have become agoraphobic and would rather sit within their i-pad and online worlds and let everything else crumble around them. Who knows.

But one thing is for sure. I like the egg. I hate the bacon. And it’s not a religious thing either. It’s a life issue. Bacon while tasty, just leads to bad things. While eggs get a bad rap, but we keep finding out it’s a pretty healthy thing when we take it in moderation with everything else. So while it might be okay to have a Bacon and Egg Breakfast, it’s better to find a different solution in the long run. I don’t know what that solution will be, or if humanity will survive long enough to see it. I do know this though. Change must happen. With the world as overpopulated as it is, something is going to burst and change will be the result. The egg may come into being only after a great war has reduced the population of the earth by seventy percent. Who knows. Or the egg may take the form of the masses simply taking all the politicians and pushing them into the sea and going back to tribal councils. Who knows.

Maybe that’s just the kicker… Perhaps we as humans don’t know enough to know and if we stop with trial and error, we implode. So here’s to wherever the future is going to take us. I just hope it’s far away from the 7 deadly Sins.


Viral’s Edge – The “Chaos Click”

Today’s society. What a vast and grand and often terrifying subject to talk about. Yet, just as often as it scares us to death, it can warm us completely and make us feel love in a way we’ve never known before.

Yesterday the headlines captured a re-occurring event. The viral spread of an online happening. In this case, it happened to be the about the tragic suicide of a 12 year old girl. My heart and prayers go out to the one’s who truly loved her and are left behind. I’ve lost a child myself, so I can grasp at what emotions might be breezing through. May the little girl rest in peace now.

That being said, this blog today isn’t about suicide. Rather, it’s about the reactions of thousands of people to it. Their comment’s, their attitude, their fears, worries, angers and all that jazz. If at this point in time, you don’t know what going viral means, you should look it up. It’s simple yet complex in how it happens, and not everything will go viral. But if the criteria is met, BOOM!, the internet takes off with it and spreads what ever it is like wildfire.

I’m going to start this off by talking about one of the responses I saw to the girls suicide. It was a rare one. While most of the masses were feeling sympathy, horror, and anger over the event and how the news handled it and how the police handled it. There was a comment that struck a cord with me. In a nutshell explained why it’s important for people to see the video, not shy away and stop living behind sugar coated blinders. Of course this comment was in response to the hoards who felt that the video of the girl should have been ripped down from the internet to keep it out of the eyes of viewers that shouldn’t be seeing it…

That made me wonder. What shouldn’t be seen? Death? Why? It’s part of life and the world we live in. Would it really be fair to any child to come up against it and not know what it was or how to deal with it? No, it would be selfish as a society to hold that stance. So again I asked, what shouldn’t be seen or heard? The girls words before her death? Her words were her words, they were the words of a girl who’d felt like hell had consumed her already and there was nothing left. At the same time they were to words that wished desperately that things couldn’t have been different. Why should we keep those words from the ears of others? My thought is, hearing them sparks a fire under people to be more aware of those around them and do more to help those that are trying to reach out and to learn the signs of people who are trying to reach out.

So, one might say at this point that I’m trying to make a young girls death a learning experience for others. Isn’t that taking away from the important issue? The issue of the heartache and grief that her family must be feeling. Yes, and no. Yes, the even becomes a learning experience as all things become learning experiences. And regard to the what the family must be feeling, coming from experience, you don’t want anyone else to experience it. Thus it makes sense to let the moment find some positive in that learning experience. That positive becomes the road to recovery for the family.

Now we walk back and look at the essence of this event becoming viral in the first place. Why would the death of a young girl flow outward at such a rapid pace? Why would thousands of people and many more counting take the time to watch the video, talk about the video and post or share it on?

I have a couple of thoughts on this. The first being humanities never ending curiosity about what they’ve never seen before. The second belongs to the very real aspect of humanity that finds death and dying a fascinating subject. Just look at how many videos of executions are out there, on numerous sites. The swath of population that will watch them and be fascinated by them is there. The third is a rather new aspect of humanity and how they’ve learned to love reality shows. Reality captured in real time and shared over the net is exciting for many people. Hollywood has captured that market for years now. Thus you can see, there are many reasons why such a tragic event can become viral.

I found it interesting that most of the news publications that carried the article spoke more of their frustration about trying to take the video down, verses the tragedy itself. But there is an answer for this. Chaos sells. Click bait sells. News that creates the Chaos Click is the marketing bulls eye for many new related companies. So to all those that got frustrated over how these articles were written, please talk to our market driven society. After all, that’s what drives such things. The police can’t do anything about that, nor the internet.

Perhaps the Chaos Click could be put side by side with the age old, “Know what your shooting at,” mentality that hunters should have. Perhaps people should take time to think about what their click will do to those in the world around them?

So next time you see some headline about something disturbing, or a new product, or anything at all. Think about the ripples that will go outward from you clicking that link. Like a rock in the water, all the edges of the lake feel it’s plunge.


I’ve come to the conclusion that if life were a delusion and the sky was truly just a part of our imagination than politics and their minions could be removed with the dispel feature found in every Dungeons and Dragons spell book. However, if life were an illusion and how we comprehend everything is a choice of our own imagination, than politicians could be removed by simply dis-believing in them. Thus I ponder…

Driftwood Art Creation 3

If the fish flies into the basket of insanity and ponders reality from the perspective of it’s own kind, than the ripples of mankind’s issues are only as threatening as the radiation that sinks beneath the waves. The answer would be simple for the fish, vanish. For it would have the simple understanding that if it stopped offering itself as food to the pink fleshy creatures on the surface above, they might die out. Yet, what of the flying fish or the fish who learns to walk upon the shores of humanities crimes. What then does it do? I would reckon that it would choose to adapt and grow. For if it was a big scary flying fish with fangs, than mankind would run from it’s nature and the grand mother of things would be once again in control.

Yet, what of man and it’s fish? Man is horrible when attempting any feelings of compassion for anything other than it’s own secular and narrow thoughts, thus the fish would either have to be eaten or shunned or killed for any reason that could be contrived, as to allow mankind to continue to feel as it still held some inkling of power.

While I like most of humanity, I do so by seeing it simply as a form of art and beauty. Why? Simple. Art and Beauty is removed from politics, removed from belief, removed from greed and removed from others peoples opinions. For art and beauty is entirely in the eye of those looking for it. Thus I ponder…

Would the planet be better if everyone simply spoke of their idea of art and beauty and tossed everything else under the bridge? For sure there would be differences, but that contrast has a place in art, where it only fills the coffers of hate in the other areas. So… I say… Be artful and beautiful and flow with that light as powerfully as you can.

Into the Dream

Winter Forest

Into the dream… Do we ever really know where we are going? Are we ever able to really see or understand the lessons that the dream is trying to teach us? Are we even supposed to be seeing the dream in the first place? Perhaps it was an accident. Or maybe or mind simply went for a private walk and the conciousness wasn’t supposed to know about what was being mused at that time.

All things considered, dreams can be a pretty scary existance to try and wrap your mind around. What if we learned about some evil essence within ourselves, or recieved some otherworldy premonition that the universe was about the puke us all out into a state of nothingness? You could just image the pandimonium that all those emotions mixed might create.

So next time you see a dream come strolling by, you might was to take a moment and thank it for being a more moderate type and not some noxious demon. On the other hand, if you catch a nightmare, feel free to do what you will, ride it into the sunset like a fiery inferno, or run like friend chicken. Either way, you’ll wake up with a good sweat on and won’t have to worry about going to the gym.

Dimensions of Memory

Today’s topic is about being personal. That means the flow of these words are supposed to be close to my essence and about something more tangible to what I might think about or muse about, or ponder over, or even deal with on a day to day basis. So, to jump right into to it… Chaos!29818832163_91832c4010_k

Or at least a complex flow of mind that starts with a calm blank gray slate and then slowly picks up motion and color until at some point my rational reasoning ceases it’s logical flow and the universe inside my nogin turns left and falls down. Thus everything starts running along a path into an area of darkness that is what some people might consider the standard consistancy of the every day emotional thought process. Did you catch all that?

If you didn’t, no matter. As the real reason for me writing today is a conundrum in itself and if I could even half articulate the emotions of the moment, I might actually come upon the reason for life, the universe and everything else. So it’s okay for you to be baffled and confused. If you need to use the bathroom, it’s off the left and down two and half steps. But be careful of the trip wires that my mind left along the way. Oops. It’s okay to yell out if you’re having issues assessing the true nature of my personal state. The quicksand can work rather fast I’ve been told.

Now that the preamble is out of the way, I shall dive into the thought that warps and pours from the inner reaches of my soul.


“It was an old place. Dusty perhaps, or at least the scent of dust upon the stale windows. Aging glass cracked with time, rotting wood without, one strong to keep the windows safe. An irony of time had occured, as a few shards of glass littered the floor.

It was alone, or at least that was my muse. Old stuffs laying in odd ways, their time, a passing memory that no one remembered. Yet, there was life, or the decay of what might have been. A banana peal, an empty pudding package and the occasional rat and mouse droppings. Silence, other than my curious slow breathing.

It was a choice. I came to let my curiosity take the lead, my feet following the thoughts of those old boards, cracked wall plaster and old faded picture frames tilted upon that one lone hallway. The enterence was the main room, the backroom a bathroom, or at least was in times gone past. Now, only a fold out cot with squeeky springs and a canvas top lay ready for a midnight crash of some secret neighborhood meeting.

It was a shiver. A passionate desire perhaps that bade me continue into this place. A need to understand it’s very essence, so that my own might find enlightment. That was why, or at least how I would explain it in years to come.

It was an inch, a chill and a shiver as thread by thread, clothes, top, bottom and more fell to the floor. They would lay quiet and unheard along with the shoes and stockings.

It was being that burst upon the soul as the cold canvas connected with the skin, hair laying where gravity would take it. The cealing full of questions and cobwebs, an imagination of the tales that it could tell if it could speak in a language I might hear.

It was cool, nothing but reality. At peace was the beating heart, alive the spirit racing around the room. Excited, knowing that I might not be alone, some eyes having chanced upon my pale flesh. Perhaps… Yes, a dream maybe. Or mabye some flow from a deeper place within the essence that I was at the moment.

It was a moment. A time, a piece of a watch’s guard, clicking away for only a short while. A memory of a musty old place, a dusty piece of history, a scent that would linger with me for all my days.

It was about being alive.”

No one can say that memories can’t be full of twisted and bizzare things. Sometimes we remember an incident in technocolor and each and every time our mind slides towards that date, our thoughts explode from feelings of yesterday. Other times, memories are like a cracked vault leading to some dark and scary labrynth, that even the greatest of “Indiana” types would pale and turn from.


Such is life. Mine, yours or the person next door. You should ask yourself the next time your mind perks up some strange bubble of yester year, “What am I really thinking about?” You might just find that answer is far more impressive than those dark and scary places.

Classification or an Abstract Distract


Just another word in the human languages. Or at least that’s one might think on the surface. In deeper musings upon this somewhat unremarkable formation of letters and characters, we find that within its preset composition of glyphs, there is in fact a dark force that commands humanity to do great evil.

Humanity must classify everything or die! Or at least it seems, doesn’t it? Humanity has achieved greatness in the scientific worlds by classifying as many things as it can. Scientists love to group like things together to better understand them. One might even go as far as saying mathematicians follow suit on this matter.

Yet, take a moment and look around you. How many things do you classify in your everyday life? How much of it really does the world any good? I bet you found yourself looking at your neighbors and thinking about how they go to a different church, or are perhaps a different color of skin, or that they own a gun and your unsettled by that, or that you can’t understand why they don’t talk much to you because of your gun case with twenty rifles.

I pause… You ponder… Classification. Just how many things did you find that you classify without much fore thought?

The reality. We are human beings. We are Earthlings. We are carbon based life forms. We know how to feel, we know how to communicate and we understand the great emotion known as pain when we are hurt by over-classification.

So, when I hear people talk about “Black lives matter” or “He for She”, I cringe because the very basis of those phrases are steeped in Classification. I cringe again when I hear that people who make a truthful and honest statement, “All lives matter,” get heckled and shouted down upon and accused of not understanding what’s really happening, or get a beat down because they aren’t falling in the correct classification that others think is the correct one.

Let’s see now… We are human beings… We all have red blood beating in our hearts, and we all feel pain when a hurtful words or fists fall upon us.

Oh yes! I remember now! We is in essence the same as all! Thus the saying, “We All.”

Perhaps this all comes down to the tact and perception of the words we choose to use in our lives. Maybe it’s all about how we define the meanings of those words. But the truth is. We really are all on the same planet and if there is going to be any one action that is judged more negatively than others, it should fall upon any and all of those who can’t fathom what “All” really is.

The Fall of Roosteration

Does society need it’s roosters? Or are a coupe full of hens enough to get on by? These are important questions in our modern times. We must look deep into the meat of the matter and make sure that the result is at least a few ruffled feathers.

Roosters, in my humble oppinion have lost their luster. While once they were in high demand to keep the peace, keep away the boogey man and peck’n’scratch at the denser pieces of earth, it seems that the need or want to even have them around is lost.

The hens are quite capable at tending the coupe. They keep the weeds down, can flock in great numbers, offer penty of idle eggs to keep the addled minds and hungry stomachs full of something to crack about. After all, who’d want to interfere with a whole gaggle of feathered folk when they are on a role about some trendy topic? Not I. I’d rather keep a safe distance.

So the rooster is left with little choice but fall by the wayside of legends and lore. Even the great Foghorn has seen he’s hayday fall to such utterly nonsensical characters of the cartoon network and other stations targeting the lower masses of slower moving intellect.

Yet, what is to become of the rooster? Will it be eaten off like the female praying mantis takes care of it’s mate? Will we see a new type of zoo or amusement park that specilizes on the historical activities of the rooster of days gone to dusk? Or perhaps the roosters of this society have a plan? Perhaps a re-invention is in the works and we haven’t seen the last of their loud morning calls and strutting ego-sophistacted movements?

No matter what ends up happening, the hens seem to have made reality quite clear. They only desire roosters in the roost at their own beck and call.

So here’s to the Rooster, that legacy in us all, of a better time.