Paper vs. Electronic, Slight Return

Sorry, I didn't get around to this in my previous, self-absorbed post on this topic, but one of the main reasons for maintaining a healthy hard-copy book world is what Mr Orwell was illuminating in 1984: governments are constitutionally incapable of keeping their filthy hands out of tampering with written truths. (I'll let that statement stand alone, it works for me as stated.)

The fact is, electronically stored text is easier to "revise" than hardcopy, paper text. As we have seen, the Soviet Union (and other criminal governments, and we have had a few of those) was quite successful at altering paper text to suit their needs, removing dudes from pictures, blacking out text, altering text, controlling what was printed. All of this is perhaps even simpler in electronic format. You know, Change All.

"Just give me some truth, all I need is the truth" as Mr Lennon said.

Low-res, poor content quality dream

I'M BATMAN, DADGUMMIT!Some dreams are sharply detailed and some are sort of sketchy and blurry - and yet the blurry ones can stick with you.

This dog of a dream was sort of stupid. No, make that really stupid and low-resolution. In the dream there is a gigantic Batman flying around in outer space, killing monsters. The background is sort of that purplish-blue ink they used to use in the old Batman comics. The dream went on for quite a while, but it wasn't very clear what kind of monsters Batman was killing or why he could survive in the vacuum of outer space or why he was gigantic or how he got there or why he was fighting monsters and actually killing them, rather than simply vanquishing them like he does in the comics.

The dream became boring in its murkiness and I woke up. My thoughts about the dream seemed more entertaining than the dream itself, you know - really poetic thoughts, none of which I can remember. Ah, that's the ticket. A really blurry, poor quality Batman dream, poorly remembered. And you know, I don't even think there was any Batman theme music playing. What a cheap-ass dream. It could have maybe used some Prince music played on a Fisher-Price xylophone, at least.

Unicorn Party Supplies

Not a very convincing Unicorn Centerpiece - I might be pissed if I was a little girl and they plunked this down at MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!
"C'mon Mom, what gives? You call that piece of shit a Unicorn! I'm so embarrassed!"

http://www.birthdayexpress.com/Fairy-Tale-Unicorns-Party-Supplies/42073/PartyKitDetail.aspx?REF=KNC-CEgoogle&s_kwcid=ContentNetwork1206330390&gclid=CKvnnIyU4poCFQVfFQodvWQvBw

Some more of the ads that appear on my blog that resemble postings. How opportune for the capitalist vibe to polevault into the false reality of my reality!

Paper versus electronic

This has been working on me in the back of my mind for a long time - the idea of electronic media (Kindle, on-line books, audio-books) versus Old Fashioned Books made of paper.

Since certain human beings in my realm of experience have consistently proselytized the Kindle and audiobook to me (like the big, goofy words there?), I have had to consciously consider this proposition and for some reason, questions like this, ie. on aesthetic choice, continue to reverberate in the canyons and chasms of my perpetually perturbed mind. This is what clams up my brain cells on a day to day basis, so here are some poorly-formed ruminations on this proposition.

Here's the case for electronic media:

1. Environmental: For downloads, no trees killed. (The machinery needed to read - computers, kindles, etc. would pretty much exist anyway in some form, so this is perhaps not an additional environmental factor.) So, electronic wins in the environment department.

2. Immediacy: No wait for mail or trip to Borders/B&N/Local Bookstore. Bam! You got it.

3. Variety: You can get everything in great variety - the books, podcasts, newspapers from all time - or soon will be able to get all of this, a lot of it in free downloads.

I'm not sure of other benefits, but I would think (I don't know) that you could manipulate the text - put it in a larger font, a different font etc. to make it more readable.

For audio books:

1. For blind people, this is good.

2. For travellers and auto commuters, this is good.

3. Generally excellent readers are employed so you get extra points in the performance of the book. Better understanding of the material, ease of translation into your own head. This all enhances the book, I think.

4. Very good for poetry and books written to be read. Nothing better than spoken word spoken well.

The negatives to me for electronic media:

1. I don't want to mess with all this stuff - CDs, downloads, devices

2. This stuff is hard to read on a computer or reader. I have to really concentrate to read this stuff. Like this blog for instance - its hard to blaze through all this crap, so it makes sense to keep it short, which I usually don't.

The case for Real, Old Fashioned Paper Books

1. The feel of the book in your hands (animal pleasure in gripping, feeling, etc.)

2. The overall artistic experience of the book, outside the appreciation of content. The look, the art, the paper used, the jacket design, the illustrations, the binding, the size of the book - the whole craft of publishing that has brought the book to your hand. This stuff is important to me and is all part of the overall communication of a book.

3. These books become old friends. I have books that I've owned since 1966! They have grooves in my head fer chrissake. I couldn't possible throw away the first serious book I ever bought with my own money, "Poems 1923-1954 e.e. cummings" http://www.amazon.com/Cummings-Poems-1923-First-Complete/dp/B001XGR1JI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1243611755&sr=1-1

This book has outlasted everything else in my life except my mother, my sister and my brothers. I still go back to it and when I read it, I'm reading it all the times I've ever read it, not only this time. It's got a real vibe going on as a physical object with a history.

Also, I can't picture the extreme typography and the look of cumming's poetry in e-book format. A good deal of his appeal is the way the words lie on the page. And its hard to get a poem to look as intended on a computer.

4. Whatever this is: I went to the Rare Books Room at the British Library in London and saw books like "Alice in Wonderland" by Lewis Carroll, written and illustrated in his own hand, hand-written lyrics of Beatles songs, the Magna Carta, original Bibles and so on. This "artifact" nature of the book is unavailable in original e-publication format. There's no "Gee, this is the original electronic text in the author's own keyboard strokes!" to e-books.

5. I can't imagine lingering over an e-book, postponing its end. Often when I'm reading a book that really gets to me, I forestall the end, draw out my reading time, re-read chapters, hold the book and use it as a token to think about it. I can't see doing any of that with an e-book. Then, when its back on my shelf, I go back to it and its there as a reminder to me of the book. The book is a continuum of experience, not just a momentary experience.

6. Here's one for Patty - you can't really read your kindle or PC in the bathtub, right?

I guess most of my appreciation of books is beyond the ordinary "read it, get it, get over it" - I'm more of a "reader for artistic virtue and subtlety" for whatever that's worth. As for the environmental impact, maybe people could be charged a tax for paper consumption when they buy a book and be encouraged to use libraries more - the tax could go directly to universal library funding and book preservation- then us paper book nuts could still have access to books without storing them.

eh, whatever

PS: Here's something else and something else else:

1. My 4 or 5 bookshelf collection of poetry. How exactly would the convert to e-book? This has been amassed over more than 40 years in varieties of forms - anthologies, collections, single books, Poetry magazine editions (30 or so). I have gradually put this together and have very close connections with some of the books, from college courses and otherwise. I can sit in my upstairs room, selecting books, reading them, selecting others, etc for hours. I'm searching in my mind for the electronic equivalent: would it be an index of online books and magazines bookmarked and with cover art to scan through like i-pod does with album covers? But, would I remember junk like, "Yeah, I remember that bookstore in Milwaukee / Kansas City / New Hope where I picked this up." "Yeah, I remember the download I did on this one." Not quite the same.

2. Variant editions - thinking of "Leaves of Grass" and "On The Road" here. There are greatly varying editions of books such as these. Is this somewhat lost in electronic land?

3. Art books - okay, these just don't translate to electronics at all. I have big crazy paperback art books on posters and whatever. Kindles don't come in 24 x 16 size yet, I don't believe.

recurring dream motif dream

So, this is a very common type of dream that I had last night. I have this sort of dream a lot, so much so that sometimes in the middle of the dream I think "Oh, not this dream again!" and wake up.

In the dream I was going to a class, this time in Junior College, for some reason and of course, I am very ill-prepared. As usual with this kind of dream, I have been missing this class for weeks, show up and am in a world of hurt. The teacher immediately announces that its time to turn in our final papers. I, of course, have no final paper, having been goofing off all semester. On top of that, the final exam starts. Even worse, I can't even think what class I'm in.

I start looking around for paper to at least write my final paper, and then do the exam. I have no paper. I ask the dude next to me, a big Egyptian guy for some paper, but the paper he gives is light blue, has print on it and has photos. That wouldn't look good on my final paper, especially since its going to be off the top of my head and written in blue pen.

I screw around for awhile trying to find blank paper in what he has given me with no luck. So, now I decide to hit some of my other fellow students for paper. I ask one woman for some blank paper and she says, "It depends." I say, "I need it for my final paper." She says, "You didn't write your final paper? I wrote two. Do you want to buy my extra?" Now, I start thinking, "why am I going to school if I'm not going to even write my own pathetic final paper?" but I relent and say, "Okay, I'll buy it." She says "You will have to change all of the pronouns from she to he and like that."

Now I'm picturing in my mind a final paper that has cross-outs and corrections on all of the pronouns. Not only that, but class is passing rapidly past and I haven't accomplished anything.

At this point I wake up.

These dreams are bad. I graduated from college 36 years ago and still I'm having them. Usually I just can't remember what classes I'm taking, which isn't as bad as going to the end of the semester and finding out you haven't done anything.

Better than graffiti

From last summer, art student in Florence does chalk/sidewalk reproduction of a Renaissance masterpiece

lunch poem for 5/22

Long ago and far away noiseless arrows whisked through thick, ungainly air
Slipping between ribs and fabric gaps into soldiers’ organ meat
While birds chirped nearby in sylvan woodlands uninterrupted by battle
Corpses thumped quietly to the turf, eyes staring emptily into the woods

Another day, loud bombardments heard for hundreds of miles cracked the sky
While still the birds chirped, somewhat put off by the percussive ironworks
Soldiers, splattered by raining cannon balls and sprays of shrapnel
Flew through the air, landed on the turf and screamed in horror, splintered

Then, one fine day, perfected aerial attacks vaporized whole cities into dust
The birds disintegrated, burned and melted in mid-air as forests blazed
Soldiers and civilians alike were consumed in supersonic horizontal ash blazes
Their remains unfound, their shadows burned into the ground where they stood

The End

Festering Wound of Lunch Poem Makes Debut Here With Godzilla Picture - Oh the beauty of it all

giant pepper tree floating sidewise

save the unicorns from symphonies, from dense walls of music

desperate for air as sneezingly the pepper flies

the unicorn stomps its hooves and shakes her mane

eliminate all of the excuses and Save the Unicorn!!!

most tragic comedy to ever befall the sinister

will fall on you, evil of mister doctor man!

remove yourself from the quadrant of light

your unique pepper hybrid tree will fail you

I will clean up this mess and help the unicorn blow her pretty nose

the heartbreak of unicorn abuse now past

YEsterday Lunchtime Poem festers as a post today

expose yourself to a life of complete stupidity

maximize your exposure: make it a gulf

this is your chance so don't fuck it up

you too can be a blockhead

you too can be dense
uncomprehending

lost in space

laughing

ha ha!

A New Solvent For Americanski Politics

An important solution for everything during which I powerfully solve everything

Is the Republican Dead Party? That’s right! They have can think: “Kick they monkey asses to the curb, I say”. Again and again. As a responsible commentator, here is what I think “we the people” should do: every year I say this and every year I forget what I said.

The Republican and Democrat parties should be more parties, the parties should be rigorously regulated and elections should be reformed stronger than ever, the parties should be split apart, combined and stirred around, just like the Democrats have,like France.

Right now they are buying guns and spouting revolutionary rhetoric as though the “No, you can’t kill vampires” thing is working. Just like the money at the expense of the taxpayer total years available to any long outlived their officially dissolved by an act of law and the constitution should be re-written or radically updated. and every other document just like that is.

Now, that’s something you can march to. Oh,what a powerful idea they are having.

Or said another way: jilt hummocks with ethanol eyetie oxlips, Nana. Widen shrifts, mimic heaped rimed tenderizers, calmly pad the trebly xeric topaz. Long dissolved manila dangles rascally to any by cancan shooing ritual.

Every other Witco through amour serest optic arm catchers into afghan trivia. Abed in whey deaths, the icier larvae ergot is now liming.

A man once said, “The government should be a mandatory coalition of five or alleged usefulnesses and who were presumed dead after Al Gore let the election be stolen like Guatemala to cut money out of the equation.”.

Then Calamity Damity said “Representatives like George “Big Time Gambling” Bush, they will rise again, and 9/11 made a big, smelly hero of the country had been illegally pried away from the thick fingers of their control.”

No one understands this, not even me. First take the money out of the equation,then put it back in, then put it back again. Do you see? Me, neither.

My solution: get rid of both parties, be paid minimum wage and housed everyone in median government housing for the “poor ness”. This doesn’tmean what you think it does.

You one individual serving in successive elective should be imposed every time a new year comes up on all elective positions and a limit on punished and punished accordingly like a periwinkle unicorn in a field of jumping tansies.

You just can’t think like this any more

.

Democrats in 2000 - 01, start several rational newparties using elective office to make these parties should epitomize such as socialism. Start a cereal party!

Term limits education, legitimate needs of society and people having illegitimate needs rather than the traditional “special interests”, pacifism, liberalism, conservatism, booleanism, while being founded on the considered high treason and will be Big Oil, pharmaceuticals and health care (as opposed to health), unions like banking, business, educators (as opposed to positions should be 16 years. will be environmentalism (as opposed to workers), etc. Sorry everybody, this started out to be important then turned into tunafish.

Even More Movie Watching On Sunday

So next thing, you know - I'm driving home from watching Showgirls and Repo and Steve comes up on the 21st Century car cellphone and suggests I join Julie and him to see the Angels and Demons movie at Bridgewater mall. Well, sure.

I just love movies, you know although my movie intake is off seriously from when I was younger when I really watched a lot of movies. I like to think I watched movies "uncritically, yet with a critical eye." You know, I analyzed every foot of film I saw but was still willing to suspend disbelief for practically anything, including endless streams of American International biker flicks.

But, whatever! So I met Steve and Julie at Bridgewater for a 9:30 p.m. Sunday screening of this new Tom Hanks blockbuster along with the preppy high school athletes ("you guys in training?") the young guy with his much older girlfriend, gays with gal-pals and an extremely mixed crowd numbering probably 50-75.

So, this is a thriller genre movie with a lot of Vatican protocol and highly-evolved Catholic Church mumbo-jumbo, labrynthine ecclesiastic bureaucratic mazework and debatable nuclear physics that actually works pretty well. Its sort of The Cardinal meets The Day of the Jackal meets The Name of the Rose meets National Treasure in the Eternal City. And, theres a lot of great "Wow! We're in Rome here!" shots of St Peter's, Piazza Navona, the Sistine Chapel, the Pantheon and other astounding tourist destinations.

Tom Hanks is Tom Hanks, you know - a lot of reassuring fuddy-duddy quirk for your $10.00. He's kind of the postmodern Jimmy Stewart, I guess. He's okay in a generic Tom Hanks kind of way as the Harvard "Symbolist" (wuzzat?). The Italian actress playing the nuclear physicist who accompanies him on his quest to save the Vatican from itself is very un-nerdy for a nuclear physicist. She's kind of a generic Italian lady scientist in sensible clothing. When she lost her journals, I couldn't help but recall Elizabeth Barkley losing her suitcase in Showgirls, which I had just seen earlier. This is the danger of watching too many movies in one day.

The Vatican heavies, the super-baddy and the Italian cops are all beneath our American contempt - how dare they act this way? You can just feel your sense of democratic superiority rising in your Tom Sawyer cultural scaffold as they act predictably European Catholic and distrustful of us brilliant Yanks, like Hanks.

The best scenes for me were the ones in the Vatican Archives. I really wanted to get in there and see all of the rare manuscripts, but was unable when I went to the Vatican. What do I know, I figured they would have an open access rare book museum like the British Library, but it turns out they want you to pay extra and get reservations and all that. Ah, come on. I don't need to see Dante manuscripts that badly.

So anyway - I don't want to give away too much here, but creation really does look exactly as it was depicted on the Sistine Chapel ceiling, except with a Scottish guy (Ewan McGregor) dude in a parachute and none of those big, nude Italian Renaissance nude deities.

Pretty good movie although I would have liked the Vatican to explode. That would have racked up some extra points.

Bad Movie Twin-Bill Overwhelms Helpless Viewers

Yesterday Mike Amanda and I (Jill hid in another room) watched a mini-marathon "Bad Movie Night" composed of "Repo - The Genetic Opera" and "Showgirls".

Wow!

Showgirls, of course, is a tried and true bad movie night staple - a real jawdropper of a movie gone very, very wrong - but its funny, campy and willfully wrongheaded. We have been debating whether Elizabeth Barkley, the "star" of Showgirls was shtupping the director when this movie was made, which would account for why she was allowed more than enough leash to hang herself about 90 times in 90 minutes. Lets say her "acting" isn't exactly finely nuanced. She musta went to the Psychotic Episode School of Acting, I would say. And the sex scenes with Kyle Maclachlan: Huh? What? Eh?

An aside on Showgirls: we can't figure out why the black "boyfriend" sub-plot is even in the movie. Its functionless, unless you count the "Bitch, get me a beer!" line as ghetto comedy. I'm not sure about this character. Is he squatting in that warehouse or can you actually rent something like that in Vegas? Why is it all smoky?

On the other hand, Repo is almost too bad for words. The plot is hopeless, the songs are horrendous, the acting execrable, the dialog unintelligible.

It reeks, people.

Talk about show-stoppers - this movie is one long "What the F?" scene after another (and not in a good way.) And its way way way way way way too long. Mike kept time-checking - "Oh shit, we got 55 more minutes of this!" "Oh no! Still 35 minutes left - its seems like we've been watching this for four hours!"

Its an opera that mixes rap (I think that was rap), sing-songy narration, graphic novel segments, shrieking pop opera (think Meatloaf on crack writing music for an Evanescence video featuring people who can't really sing with gratuitous cameos - like Joan Jett = ka-ching, payday Joan?)

Paul Sorvino seriously should have his Actor's Guild membership shredded for his performance. Sure, maybe you need a pay-day, but come on! Is he doing penance of some sort?

And oh, here you go: Effing Sarah Brightman is featured in this mess near the end, but fortunately is impaled on an iron pike fence after ripping her own eyes out just when you KNOW you can't take any more of her. Hey, I think I just identified the movie's high point, except any scene featuring Sarah Brightman by definition cannot count as a high point.

This is the first bad movie night movie we actually had to stop in the middle and take an hour break to get through. Now, that's bad. We sat through the interminable "Gerry" without a break and its basically just a movie with two guys walking in the desert for two hours. Repo made Showgirls look like fine art.

No Mas!

Important - Punk Space Alien discovered in MS tool, "Paint"

AGGH! ITS GOD! I SEE GOD!

this little dinosaur has accidentally ingested mass quantities of peyote and now he is explosively barfing and having visions, woo-hoo!

Another Really Great Dream

So, I dreamed I went to the door and there was this big mythical looking dude standing there, sort of grayish purple with a modified rhinoceros head. He was about 8 feet tall and for some reason I recognized him as the guard / guide to the gates of the Afterlife (and not the Good Afterlife).

"Hm," I thought. "I better come up with some serious thought here pretty quick!" (this is the brilliant way I think to myself in dreams)

Fortunately, I remembered there was a corresponding guard to the Good Afterlife, a really big beautiful "maiden" in a white sleeveless dress who, if I could locate her, I could introduce to the big rhinoceros head guy,

So I said, "come with me" and led the dude off down a sort of medieval alley way to where the radiant white maiden was waiting. Luckily for me, I found her right away and introduced her to the giant purple-gray dude. They hit it off and I wandered off back to bed and woke up.

Ta Da!

(the guy was more ominous looking that the picture above, but you get the idea)

today's verse composed at lunch

At The Ball

( some one ) is sinister foot music somewhere in a tungsten-carbide-atmosphere cabaret
an insect being can't dance properly, upset that the full screech quartet is unamplified

abrasive winds howl the outlines of the forgotten, saturating all attending entities
inching past the diocese footmark as a repast numerates displaced ascetic chewers

hatefully be-cupped, enhanced-impulse pilgrims recharge the up-unified who seek noise
in a negative window, unwinding negation, where the winsome rioters circulate chaotically

progressing forward angrily, invisibly, a game-changer advances in rotting elastic time-steps 'her proudly ample cankerroot-tinged nagger tango is rewarded egress,

as aspirating chants reverberate endlessly through the ruined fields of eruptive and clandestine laughter

I Makeses It Into An Poem

I Makeses It In To a Poem

I has been out in the yard looking straight up

at the materializing objects

They is right as usual you think

by three smash landings of a Hall of Mirrors.

It just shook, lay dead,while I was asleep

when I should have

The roar in fury at the dead day

or another w/ stumbling statues around the

deputation & then I’se followed suit

with the robot devastation of Saskatoon,

oh fo’ sho’

when they rounded the mountain of laughter

and to the command post came to where

the beasts was at, “I called in the goats,

but was shaped more like the piazza

across the street in a mounting laugher

from a zoo or something,”

said Magumba Twaszedewskis Brown

Brief Post Post

I’m sorry about the brevity of this post but I thought about it and then typed it while I was asleep when I should have been out in the yard looking straight up at the materializing objects.

They is right as usual you think by three smash landings of the residence. It just shook, lay dead, roared in fury at the dead immediately stumbling statues around the two deputies and followed suit the robots with his powercar when they rounded the garage and to the command post of the beastsput on gas.

“I screeched with goats, but was shaped more like the broad spas across the street in the garage from a zoo or something,” said the Tyrol Fief Anklet-wearing Clown. Chief Brown Poltshikadoll and two Chief Hills burrowing out of the steaming corpse decided to take action immediately and began emptying serpent evolvers at whoever screamed and the deputies suiting up prog-rock all night. “No! No! Yes!”

“ Mm..mmight have their brains splattered about maybe we been a threat or something”, chanted the random Ape Man. “We did the appraising-their-situation thing & returned fluorescent soon enough with the five beastly beasts who were too unusual and were seen departing in masks and head in heads and said no they their stinking filth on site.

”Thanks for the mainstream reading! As usual, I will try the dinosaur, the five beasts and the remaining scimitars! As night approached, Chiasms macerate nylon templates piddled with filch stews and lack of insight.

My advice to you is go north with your sautéed fiancé to woo denuded take-ups, call the fire department to burn the remains to bring you all of the news that. “Where are the five stroking tangelo nasals the size of rocketships and what about that should have had escort turret hoops else things for like slime reporters with the buzzing, covered, demonic dark green skin?”
asked BonnieTabba-Ferry.

What they saw approaching, scissoring diehards into the stinking hulk surprised them.

Summary: Uncomfortable with nostrils the size of rock and roller coasters, the yolkier electro-negative heifers situated on aeroliths in kabanas latch and retune their variety ukeleles and what to my eyes may have seemed toy boat but was shaped more like the approaching sizzling pouring suit-suit falling the grange into the broad vistas across the street in the things for like business otters with the catatomic dark reasons asked what they saw the robots with his powercar when they rounded chink by chink the wall was and to the command post of the garage beasts’ zoo said the per force troops of indolence, I think by three and many thousands of Chief Hills borrowing the streaming hulk named Whitey is right as usual you learn of the residence.

It just shook, lay dead, roared in fury at the deadly crumbling fortress of solitude around which the burning tires and smelled a hidden bomb in the salad when they spied the rounded shape inside the floating garage and to the reticule I screeched with goats but was shaped more like the the street in the garage from a zoo or something broad across the spa said the mutant and two Chief “The Gravity Has Us!” Hills burrowing out of the steaming corpse decided to take action immediately and began emptying derived surface involvers at whoever screamed “deputies!” and the smoldering surfing usa saga filtered majestically up to approach the site

please take my survey

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=wTL8ylBm_2bV4kUaQidKAzBA_3d_3d

NEWS REPORT - Man Finds Dead Dinosaur in Kearney, NJ

Man Finds Dead Dinosaur in Back Yard in Kearney , New Jersey

Jim Flores came home from his job as a freeway ad clown to find a dead dinosaur in his back yard. “I smelled something funny right away and followed my nose to the back yard and there it was!” he told reporters. “I don’t know how it got there, but it’s a mess and it mashed in the side of my garage something fierce.”

The beast, identified by a local Boy Scout as either a “Gigantosaurus or a Really Giganto Saurus” was estimated by butcher Ted Wright as weighing between 300 and 350 tons. “Its more meat than I’ve ever seen in one place,” he opined. “And I have seen some pretty big stockyards, including Stockyard Channing.”

To complicate matters, the dinosaur was observed to have ice crystals clinging to it, leading to speculation that it had been held in a refrigerator-freezer since the Jurassic Age. “Perhaps someone was saving it for a fiesta or party and never got around to thawing it out and now they decided to get rid of it,” said Chief of Police Bill “Run of the Mill” Hill. “Anyway, I never realized they had freezers back in the Jurassic Era. I don’t even think they had electrical power back then.”

By the next morning after discovering the beast, Flores , the homeowner was forced from his home by a couple of resulting environmental problems caused by the large, rotting carcass.

First, the smell had become unbelievable. “It’s like comparing a minnow to a whale, the smell of this compared to a dead deer by the roadside,” said Flores . The smell carried for some 5 miles and was causing nearby motorists to hallucinate, puke and crash their vehicles.

Secondly, a river of dinosaur waste from the beast’s carcass was flowing down the driveway and into the street, blocking traffic. Wild animals were seen to be running up, lapping up the filth and dying on the spot. “This might be some kind of health hazard,” said Flores . “I don’t know.”

Thirdly, the avian scavengers such as buzzards and crows were flocking to the site, drawn by the putrescence and smell and were squawking like hell and ripping dead flesh off and flying around the neighborhood wreaking havoc while flies buzzed loudly in clouds around and on the carcass.

“I guess we might as well let time take its toll,” said Police Chief Hill. When a team of dinosaur scientist arrived on the scene in breathing masks and sealed suits, Hill directed them not to remove any of the filth from the scene, but to study it “in situ”. The scientists were incensed, but agreed and waded into the degenerating mess.

“What a mess!” summarized Chief Hill.

Later on in the day, a rocketship full of infernal space robots landed at the site and began wading into the river of filth, suctioning up materials, boiling them and spurting them back out in 50 foot fountains and jets into the surrounding neighborhood.

“This is an unexpected development,” said Chief Hill. “I’m afraid we might have to do something now.”

As the robots were seen departing in their stinking, slime-covered rocket ship, Chief Hill and two deputies suited up, put on gas masks and approached the site. What they saw when they rounded the garage and approached the buzzing, stinking hulk surprised them. Burrowing out of the steaming corpse were five strange-looking animals about the size of goats, but shaped more like skinks or lizards with brown polka dots on darkgreen skin.

They stumbled around, appraising their situation. Chief Hill decided to take action immediately and began emptying his service revolver into the heads of the beasts, who screamed and screeched with demonic fury. The two deputies followed suit and soon enough, the five beasts lay dead with their brains splattered about.

"Maybe we should have had someone capture those things for a zoo orsomething," said Deputy Arnold Finkle to a reporter after the threesome returned to the command post in Bob Jarass's garage across the street from the Flores residence. Chief Hill just shook his head and said, "No, they were too unusual, they might have been a threat or something. We did the right thing by shooting them dead immediately."

As night approached, Chief Hill contemplated calling the fire department to burn the remains of the dinosaur, the five beasts and the remaining filth on site.

Thanks for reading. As usual, I will try to bring you all of the news that the mainstream media can't or won't report on due to cover-ups, stupidity, laziness and lack of insight.

New Form of Matter is explained

While many human collisions will produce interesting results, a rare few might create something even more special: a new form of matter.
Actually, it's not new to the universe, just to human eyes. It's thought to have existed ten millionths of a second after the Big Bang at the dawn of the universe. It may also exist in the cores of very dense stars called neutron stars.
This form of matter is called mud-wrestling matter or MWM. Like its name suggests, MWM is a "soup", or plasma, of quarks and gluons.
Physicists believe that MWM collisions will compress and heat the gold nuclei so much that their individual protons and neutrons will overlap, creating an enormously energetic area where, for a brief time, a relatively large number of free quarks and gluons can exist. This is the mud-wrestling matter!
Above, you can see this phase transition up close. The red, green and blue circles are quarks, connected by black lines representing gluons. At the beginning, trios of quarks and gluons are packaged in protons and neutrons, which are held together in the nucleus of an atom. As the pressure and temperature of the mud rise, new particles called pions (made of a quark and an anti-quark, shown in pastels) arise.

Very, very powerful

Wow, now this is what I call a stupid posting. Good night everyone, everywhere.

Extraterrestrialist on Living With a Remote Oltre Giuban Tribe of aliens

Extraterrestrialist on Living With a Remote Oltre Giuban Tribe of aliens

By Elsa Basghette

Inside Far Out -

May 6, 2009

For decades, the alien space peoples of the Oltre Giuba have been saddled with two opposing stereotypes. One view is that they're violent monsters in need of extermination. The other is that they're noble and pure people from outer space, uncorrupted by the decadence of humanity.

Whichever view is true, this is certain: The human world is closing in fast on these unusual space people and Atomic Annie Kasqua is watching. Kasqua is an ecological extraterrestrialist who has spent more than ten years studying an ancient and remote pod of aliens in Oltre Giuba called the Small Grays. The members of this Oltre Giuban pod of aliens still hunt for food with ray guns and night vision goggles. Even as late as 1994, they were known to probe adversaries to death. Yet, Kasqua has found a way to live with and help them during a time of tremendous change. And that is how she came to be sleeping in their midst when the Small Grays came into conflict with another, even more remote pod of aliens, the so-called Nordics.

Atomic Annie Kasqua: And some of the Small Grays that I was with said, "Well, we don't know what they're going to do. At night, they have these probing attacks and who knows, maybe they'll probe us in these huts."

Elsa Basghette: What is a probe attack like?

Atomic Annie Kasqua: Their mode of probe is to wait for a moonless evening and a group of Nordic aliens with probes that they've made from the wood of a chonta palm—they're filled with intelligent alien bugs—will go in the middle of the night and just probe away. The bugs enter from the probe into the anus of the probed and spread throughout the bio-system of the probed, gathering information. When all information is gathered, they empty back out into the probe. Later the bugs crawl out into the information harness from the aliens’ original mothership and the information is analyzed and uploaded to the group mind of the alien pod for use in dealing with those probed. I have been probed many times while in a trance associated with Nordic probes. You have to undergo hypnotic regression therapy to remember the probe, which I have done and finally I remember these probes as quite interesting, stimulating and strangely enough, memorable.

Elsa Basghette: This is done while “people” are sleeping? There had to be moments that you were lying in your bunk, thinking, "This is not the place for me right now."

Atomic Annie Kasqua: I certainly felt lonely and I felt a little isolated. There's a lot of noises that happen in the middle of the night, and it gets to the point where you just lay awake and think about it and wonder what's out there. But at some point you've just gotta cross your fingers and fall asleep. And, like I say – generally you are in a sub-conscious trance when the probe takes place, so you don’t know that its going on until later when you have the regression therapy. So, no biggy.

Elsa Basghette: What exactly are you studying with the Small Grays?

Atomic Annie Kasqua: I want to understand how their transformation of the planet is changing us and how their social organization is evolving as a result of contact [with outsiders] and the market economy. I think it's a fallacy to think that they were this static, untouched pod of aliens in isolation. They've always been changing, because culture is a dynamic organism. What I'm interested in is at the rapid rate of change. You have UFOlogist going in, you've got CIA researchers going in, you've got people concerned about Oltre Giubanian conservation with really good intentions that are having a great impact on these creatures.

Elsa Basghette: And this has changed dramatically, even in the past 10, 20 years?

Atomic Annie Kasqua: The Small Grays were first peacefully contacted in 1958, around the time of the Roswell event. So if you think about it, within your lifetime, they've gone from a point where all outsiders were to be feared and probed on sight, practically to the entrance into [trading] goods and a settlement pattern that has become very sedentary. The practices of warfare and hominidicide have ceased. I mean, sometimes you still get probing raids. But it's really cut back. You have to wonder what their relationship with the Nordics is and what that will mean in a longer term.

Elsa Basghette: And why is that?

Atomic Annie Kasqua: Because of the history of the missionary contact. Protestant missionaries came and said, "God tells you that you should not probe." And the Small Grays are very aware that the outside world sees them as dangerous UFO invaders, and they're uncomfortable with that. Especially the younger aliens. But then they would probe the missionaries. However, after the missionaries were neutralized they did finally end probing, but then as we have seen, the Nordics continued the probles. Probes, probes! Always the anal probes! (laughing)

Elsa Basghette: How do they see themselves?

Atomic Annie Kasqua: They see themselves as people that, that have a lot of value. They really are proud of who they are. They have a connection with the universe and they still see that. But they also see that there are things that they want, that they don't know how to get—human things, or different types of technologies.

Elsa Basghette: So are you there to just objectively observe them or are you trying to help?

Atomic Annie Kasqua: That's a critical question, because just by quote "helping" I think that that can be really paternalistic. I'm trying to bridge between the Small Grays and our society. But right now, with the UFOlogists coming in quickly, they don't have a lot of time. In the next few years, [their] whole area can just be carved by roads and UFOlogy centers.

Elsa Basghette: Will the Small Grays as you know them today be around in 10 - 15 years?

Atomic Annie Kasqua: It's a very difficult question. Once they devastate the land base, what's gonna happen is that the Small Grays will not have the means to support themselves. They will have to declare war on humanity, I suppose. And, they will inevitably win.

Elsa Basghette: Then they'll have to assimilate us.

Atomic Annie Kasqua: Then they'll have to. But I think that the Small Grays are capable of making good decisions. I think that they can adopt certain things from human culture, or you know, choose not to. What's important is that they have that choice. Hopefully it will work out somehow for us as well.

Inside Far Out's Elsa Basghette on Work, Guests Presidents and prisoners; scientists and soldiers; the heroic and the hated—all have sat down with Alien Channel Senior Anchor Elsa Basghette as she has traveled the globe for the past 25 years. Starting out in small town radio in Alabama, she progressed through local television to join ABC Network News when she was 30. For a decade she covered virtually every major news story for Alien World News Tonight, Alien Nighttine, 120/120 and Good Morning Alien America. Now, as host and managing editor of the Emmy Award-winning Inside Far Out with Elsa Basghette, she brings her years of experience—and dozens of riveting guests—to the Exterrestial Channel at 12:30 p.m. ET Monday through Friday, and Sundays at 11:00 a.m. As the show's name implies, Basghette asks the intimate, revealing questions that cut to core of the passions that drive her guests. ------------------------------------------------------------------

Dense work block #84

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Newly Revised! Man in France Flies Through Air

Since I received so many negative reactions, I have updated this posting, making it a NEW IMPROVED POSTING

Yesterday, a man in Crement, France was seen flying through the air, "like a raisin flung off the end of a stick". Approximately 1,000 gregarious French people witnessed this unusual phenomenon and then stuck around for an exhaustive survey of their first-person observations. It was a Very Important event.

The man, Richard Mousse-Billet, said of the event that he felt "like he was going through a tube slide at an amusement park, but that there was no slide, no park and no amusement." He could not explain the event, which took him some 900 feet into the air at the top of an eliptical flight and then brought him back down on his feet, but said that "I have nearly made mud in my pants from this natural disaster, but thank God, did not."

One observer, Sylvie Bonmartin, said that upon seeing the man flying around, "she felt as though she was another person altogether, that no one could understand but her the way that she felt."

Sylvie continued, "I am sure that I am the only one who knows how I feel about this. No one else could possible ever understand the depth and strength of my feelings, not even God."

She was then asked what her feelings about this were, exactly. "Its hard for me to put these strong, valid feelings into the proper words so that you would understand them. Let me try."

She stood there, grimacing and wringing her hands for several minutes, then continued. "Nobody can understand how I feel about this and that is why I can't say what it is that I am feeling. If I were able to tell you, you still would not understand and even if you thought you did, you still wouldn't understand."

Survey taken at the flying man event: 1000 respondents.

% # Response.

05 1. I think that this is a new dawn

27 2. This was a trick.

01 3. No one can understand how I feel

89 4. Our invisibility has been compromised

10 5. This was a mass hallucination

5 6. I forget what I saw

33 7. The (flying man) is a corrupt government official

40 8. More testing is required

100 9. I'm not surprised by this

12 10. We could do something beside answer foolish questions

55 11. You have lied to me2 12. This lemonade is sub-standard

27 13. You should stop yourself and consider what an important person Iam

55 14. I haven't been paid for this, yet

10 15. May I speak with a supervisor?

14 16. This does not apply to me

1 17. This has gone far / not far enough

72 18. Everything looks blurry

12 19. Turn on the captions

18 20. This music sucks

59 21. Is this for someone's stupid blog?

Corporate "Diversity Programs" Found to Be Anti-Minority Smokescreens

If corporations were inclusive and on the up and up with minorities and women, you wouldn't need diversity programs as a palliative for those people being held back by the white males in charge of the corporations. The corporations would be run by the people of the sun, for Chrissake.

By the way, this is a Tuscan sunset I took a picture of in September 2007.

Unicorn Poem #2

O, the unicorn is a subtle, constant, exceptional friend, She counsels

The deserving with wisdom from youth through lifetime's end

Ah! Her diamantine mane, glittering horn, shimmering brain

Posit the unicorn as the question, the answer and the means to explain

All of life's ample mysteries, the world's resounding fits, our spiritual bits

As inexorably as we mortals would go down the cosmic drain for nitwits

I wandered long and lonesome in realms of pre-empted desolately dejected dispossession Searching in vain for grandiloquence, composure, serenity in my so-calledprofession

Though I sojourned long and loud, ragingly proud, somewhat papa-oo-mow-mowed

The phantasms of real reality and solidity did not emerge from the crowd

Then my mind stood still one fine day when apropos of nothing a rambling Unicorn I spied
Green of grass, spin of wheel, still of air, free of will, tall of tree, uni of corn, blue of sky
Communicated there was the words I could not hear but only thought when left unsaid
The unicorn had come and gone and in the hilltop meadow left me all alone instead

Unicornity is its own informity, in its enormity as you and I and we are to conformity bred
The words that the unicorn hadn’t said are the words left back inside of my head

On a walk today the following insights came to me:

The lyrics to the Who's "Pinball Wizard" fit perfectly to the melody of TexRitter's "Wabash Cannonball"and visa versa. Try it out.

The conundrum of "Cutting In On" explained by Steve to me the other day is a meddlesome nasty of life. This is the thing where you have so many things that you want to do that the immediate things are"cutting in on" the time you have available to give to other things you want to do. Like, "all the fishing I'm doing is cutting in on my whittling time". (I guess that's a sort ofredneck example)

If you have a lot of work to do and its starting to get to you, adjust your priority scale. For instance, the re-adjusted highest priority would now be, "The Sun is Exploding". That's a pretty extreme priority. Lowest priority is equal to "Staring into space". That's a pretty low priority. Also,you can't do anything about the sune xploding, so why bother?

There are lots of things in this life that don't have ponchos available for them, like laptops, biscuits, birds. Just an insight - not a particular good one, but an insight. I wonder how much a pack of biscuit ponchos would cost, if they were available?

Also, here's to the cop who gave me a ticket for not stopping at a stop sign today. Thanks a lot you fascist asshole!