Note to reader: This is a recent idea of mine, and not an "oldie", being improperly transcribed. . .
It's funny (to me, at least) how an idea can roll around in the head for years, and then for decades; and you just never seem to get around to saying it aloud. String, what a concept! Don't you just find the stuff to be fascinating?. . . Okey-dokey, so maybe not? Let's just say that there may be legit reasons that I've been a bit hesitant so far to wax eloquent on the theme? I shall next purport to read your mind!
You, without doubt, just said on the inside; "So blockhead, what's so great about string anyhow?". Do I win a prize for nailing it? And I would then perform a masterful switcheroo on you, and declare that block-headedness aside for the nonce, it's much more a block-heartedness we observe here! Ain't that a doozy?
See? Life is a big, big "knot", and what (prey tell?); are knots built-of, anyway Mister? Are "knots", and I mean here all-knots, are knots (by definition); untie-able? C'mon, you've surely wondered that. . . haven't you? We could re-phrase if you'd like that better. Is the mysteriously backward, abstruse, and blindly contradicting "nature of things" (down here at least) solvable? I mean, is there really such a thing, as a "happily ever-after", or is that just another of our chronic, and pointless hallucinations? String baby! That's where it's at! Hey, work with me here, will ya?
Considered as a topological set, we infer, but cannot consistently demonstrate; "Any knot that was (historically) tied, is able to be un-done". Now, the solute might well elude us, perhaps for years, and then for decades; but the basic point here remains sound. . . I think!
I've been wondering about this basic problem, for most of my life. As a boy, I was simply delighted. . . with knots! String? The coolest stuff ever!. . Maybe? If it would make you more comfortable here, I shall try to employ human-speak, rather than mike-speak, for clarity's sake; you see? The basic "problem" of my life might well be typified and demonstrated by "string", but the normal way to say such, would sound much more like: "Is hope itself, humanly defined, a working thing, or just another of our bizarre fixations?". This I wondered, over and over again. For years! As viewed from "down here, on the ground", does the word "hope" even have a meaningful context, much less, a realizable reality? This, I wondered! Indeed-ie, I did.
Even as a boy, the usual batch of "hopes and dreams" foisted-off on the young, by the old (and discontented!) looked to be some pretty thin gruel. As an adult, I've learned to flatly reject such junk. And indeed, junk it be. "Any boy can grow-up to President!", they glumly informed me. If that ostrich refused to fly, hows about, "The American dream, is alive for us all!"? Excuse me, while I pause. . . to puke in my sock! And when push comes (inevitably) to ugly, we can always resort to, "Above all, believe in yourself (and don't forget to get a college degree, while you're at it), and hold onto (!) your dream!". Never did I say, but often thought about such drivel and pablum; "Say there pal, you wouldn't happen to have a king sized dose of caffeine plus nicotine that I could bum off you? I appear to be nodding off, over here". What we assert by such mean-hearted (block-hearts we!) cynicism, is to protect the heart from further damage, to do some damage control already! We end up, not actually wanting those unattainable "hopes", because it hurts so damned much to find them to be just another of our crummy mirages. . .
To my mind, the real "issue" wasn't exactly whether all-knots can be un-done, so much as how to not (legitimately) quit trying? As a cast-aways, after the ship went down; we (clearly) are being forced "to make-do". It, for us at least, never has been a question of "reaching the stars", the basic idea is; "Can I find a pine cone which will function as a hammer? Forget the "luxury suites" aboard the boat already, we busy are cobbling together lean-tos, out of sticks over here Mack". We need tools. . . in order to make tools! And uhm, those went down with the ship. . . might as well deal with it. And this block-heartedness of ours, to a large extent; "is me". It's all about string, I tell ya!
From quite an early age, this type of mean-heartedness, was the norm for me. See? I preferred (thank you very much) to name such "realism", okay? It appeared to me, that the prospect of growing old, was something like: "Learn to tolerate the stupidities of others (a lot!), and then "retire" (quit dealing with pin-heads at work, finally!); and pass-on to at least one or two more generations the basic delusion, that all knots are un-do-able (however unable I personally might have proven to be at the task?)". So, the big brainwave over here; is to loaf around, and lie to little kids? Wow. . . sign me up? Who, in their right mind could possibly care? We are hearing that "hope" definitely exists, and simultaneously that there are no working examples thereof? Why is this considered "convincing"?
The whole deal about becoming a "somebody" down here in this idiot rathole, for some odd reason, just never "appealed to me". Beats me, "Why ?"; but just incidentally, have you noticed? "Noticed what?" say you.
Those, uhm. . . "somebodies" which you have personally encountered down here, uh, did you "like" them? I am curious here, why precisely do you enjoy being "looked down on"? Is it some personal thrill for you to be ordered about, and ignored? And the "upside" here, is that you-too can indeed "ascend"? Count me, (for one) out! Because, see? One of the basic elementals of this age, is that the wealth-power matrix. . . "bends". . . you!
Sure, we all start out, wanting to be both a "great-one" while (somehow) remaining humble and accessible. Sure Pal, tell it to the judge. Newsflash; this just in? You can't get there from here, may as well admit it. Money/power/fame, makes you "like it-is" (butt ugly), you don't make "it like-you"! Even as a boy, I knew that, how come you didn't? And the deceit of it all, is that the old already know this, and simultaneously refuse to pass that tidbit on? So, what do I have against kids anyhow, so as to join in this conspiracy of silence anyway? This type of thing "is me", or more accurately, "was me"? Something New is entered the human equation!
The undoing of knots, can and often does occur, but "oddly, or surprisingly so". It isn't like an accident, it's much more like a surprise party. Joe Schlemiel comes home after another day at the (dumb) grindstone, in which the rich grow richer (do we ever-ever hear, "Thanks Joe!"? Hell no.), and surprise! Friends, family, food, and zany talk, come as an unforseeable solution to life's consistent heartbreak. Such formats as; a warm two handed grasp, an eye-ball to eye-ball "We love you Joe!", and a friendly punch on the shoulder. The human aspect of breaking knots, isn't to "overlook" them exactly, it's moreso a "compensation, a better-realer second-place finish". After all, the first place prize is already claimed by a real bunghole. . . Let him enjoy it; all alone. The un-done knot, for us mere humans, is a glad relief at being "low", a warmness and friendliness among "the wrong types", and best of all, surprisingly enough, I too am included!
Lord Christ lives here! Among the riff-raff, the "wrong kind", He too is slapped on the back, enjoying a brew, a nice cigar, and just good ol' home-talk! He's one of us by golly! As such, He is the Real Deal, on that "local boy makes good, hometown proud" gig. And, as good as it is (really good!), that solution, can never "be enough" to basically, and actually un-tie. . . my sad knot. However fine it is, it remains "compensation", and to be settled-for, never aspired unto. If that were so, then zeal itself, would needs-be wither, and my heart (for one?) shouts, "Never that!".
The best darned novel on the planet, The Lord Of The Rings; has a lovely way of saying better, what I am alluding to here. The Hobbits are all folksy and normal, the eating and drinking type; farming folk! These woolly-footed rascals meet up "accidentally" with this rather odd guy named (mysteriously) "Strider". This cat is one heck of a one man war machine, but is also freely able to consort with the simple, glad welcome of the "mere" Hobbitry represented. And it's downright comical how well Sir Tolkien weaves the narrative. Only dimly at first, and then alarmingly so, that the friends begin to conclude that;
The High King,
Aragorn II, Son of Arathorn
King Elessar Telcontar ("Elfstone Strider"). . . is indeed one and same as that spookily dangerous hired gun, plain old Strider!
Incredible! That the very same guy who enjoyed a cold one, and could tell great stories around the fire, that dude really doing the two handed-shake (right!), is one-and-same, as the Terrible-Majestic king of the whole realm? How could we have possibly "missed" that? Well, for one thing at least, his glory was subdued for a Purpose! The thing is, "Highness" never is, nor ever was; the thing to grasp onto. And frankly, the "American Dream" is simply, and always incapable of seeing this. Not, "every kid can", moreover much-much less so, grow-up into the Presidency. . .
And yet, and yet, hope lives! Yessiree, He do! He do indeed. . .
Here, our sad, battered confused hearts. . . at long last find a resting place.
The King is dead. . . Long Live The King!
Amen on that!
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Haters of Mankind #25 (date unknown)
As humans, we tend to contrast truth with beauty, with the proviso (unspoken) that we retain rights to identify just what constitutes both. . . In brief, we flounder, just "here". Truly enough, we are (to some extent) able to identify or "find beauty-in" various things, or persons, but to people like me (at least) "truth" tends toward the "axiomatic". Blast it! It's the principle of the thing. . . I rage, as I once again am proven unable to demonstrate the truth of things.
Truth per-se ends up sounding rather like a freshman course in formal logic, or the study of rhetoric? We introduce second graders to addition, and counting, but we are careful not to assert that such knowledge is all there is to math. Yet, over in truth-land, this type of proviso appears frequently A.W.O.L. ? Such stuff sounds to many, far too rigid, just more rules! Newsflash, this just in: "Humans are not fond of 'just more rules'. . ." Who knew? The missing ingredient might best be spoken in our tongue, as the "romance of truth". This utterly crucial vitamin, this necessary food of a romantic-true; appears in our land to be mighty scarce stuff!
Dave M., our Sunday-school instructor; mentioned recently that the early Christian believers were called by some "The haters of Mankind". What a lovely ring to it! Hey, now; that I like! The empire (recall) was not based upon credo nor upon locale. Nor was she united by "race", kindred or religion. . . unless we resort to the Imperial cultus, as the religion in question! One thing (precisely), built and welded that crazy international contraption together. . . that being, the "genius of Caesar"!
Our modern and slovenly usage of the word "genius", tends to overlook the basic idea involved, i.e., that of a "genie", or more revoltingly, a "tutelary spirit". To be blunt here, we moderns might best analyze the situation then as; Caesar was (best case!) simply delusional, and no real harm done. . . but the other option is that the creep was either oppressed or possessed by (perhaps more than one?) demonic intelligence(es?). Not, I say Not; a wholesome cult-tural development, that!
The romance of truth, the poetry of faith resides, think I, over somewheres in this region. . . Enter "Speculation-ville". Let's trace out the Lord's prayer for a moment.
1. Father (ours) > Thine the Power < I AM, the life
2. Heaven (You seated-in) > Thine the Kingdom < I AM, the truth
3. Name-Thine Holy-is-was-shall be > Thine the glory < I AM, the way
Okay, okay; so I tossed in John 14 too. Deal with it, and move on. My brainwave here is that we keep popping up with "threes". In this formatting, we derive; Father-Life-Power, next we find Seated-King-Heavenly-Kingdom (itself)-Truth, yielding a final triad of Name-Holy-Glorious-Way. ya dig?
My drift here (in case I am am being obtuse) is that in this scheme, truth is "naturally" linked to to "domain". Truth, and "turf" in this view, are "cousins", perhaps? The sanely legal dominion of the High King somehow or another "connects to the true". See? I keep on thinking that "truth" is a bit like 2+2=4, so learn the pattern and save to memory. . . Here, we get instead, something like, "The actual truth of the matter is His assertion; 'I just happen to own numbers, hence all of them work by My rules, and there exists no abstract truth, true of it's own self'. . ." The Bible is saying "Truth" and "King", always, always "intersect". There is no such thing as "impersonal truth"!
Think back with me on John 18, for instance. Good King Joshua is saying: "If My kingdom was based down here, then My folks would be rioting" (or to that effect?). Later on, He clearly says to ratface, "I came to bear witness of truth". Pilate responds; "Truth, schmooth, what's that racket all about?", or some such noise.
Do you sense a problem here? Mr. glossy-shiny, big-shot "looks down upon" this flat-broke Hillbilly from nowheres-ville, and (in effect) is asserting: "Truth? Hey Yokel, you got none!" Ergo, truth in Pilate's estimate at least; appears to be a type of "swagga", the look, the shine and gravitas of power and influence. You know the drill here, is Josh a man of influence, does He have "important" friends, and more crucially; is He "connected"? And in old Pie's estimation, this Hick from tiny Nazareth just ain't got the stuff of power, or of real authority, and thus, He "cannot" be a man of truth! Gee, how did I miss that gem all these years?
The romance of truth might appear as you informing your two year old. . . "Because, young man, I Say So!". And then setting back to observe where, or how the message "takes". Does the kiddo "buy it"? We shall see, surely we shall (indeed) see! In this type of format, you are doing the little stinker a huge favor, and linking (for him) truth-to-person, and never truth-to-axiom. And as things turn out, you are correct to do so, in that Truth (Herself!) always, always links to "Person" (Himself!). Ergo, we safely infer same of the sister in question, Beauty. His Truth therefore, is not a flat nor static assessment of "is", so much as a glad song of friendship and welcome! It's an "invite" not an announcement!
This (somewhat) established then, the message He sends the 70 out with is. . . plainly weird, unless we use this type lens to see-by, "Say to them, the Kingdom is at hand!". This, my friend, is "the truth of gospel". Do the tykes "buy it"? We shall see, we (indeed!) shall see.
We skinny mortals keep imagining truth to be "dull". In reality, such an estimation is at best, an analysis of my dullness; and my stubborn refusal "to buy". Witness; The all-time, all-out slam-down, cage match of W.W.F.! "In this corner, the entire. . . freaking world (!) wearing the black mask, and purple trunks. . . and in this corner, the Challenger (singular?) that un-armed Hillbilly from who can recall where? Him wearing the white trunks, and that oddly ring-shaped white Stetson. . I object! Such a fight cannot be possibly be "fair", and especially so, when we consider that against all "odds", against all expectations, hey; against even basic "decency(!)" that Dude is mopping the floor with those cats! Further, not only is He winning,. . in some faith-sense, it's already over! Wow, talk about a mismatch! Those guys never even "stood a chance" of winning.
Truth-wise thus, we thereby infer that there can be no final dispute between science and faith. That was yet another of our dull-wit abstractions friend. The actual grudge-match has always been about our miserable, and self-contradictory "authorities" down here (and below) vainly attempting to duke it out with King Yeshua. Such an unfair fight! He, the 'Underdog" (at alarming levels of 'under dogginess') consistently thumps them all-combined!
We observe there-by, that Truth-enforced by King is contrasted with truths (plural) foisted-upon us by frauds, fools, and perverts. Or at minimum, it's much more like that, than 2+2, ever was. Neither Joseph Smith, nor Mohammed shall ever "equal" the least-of the "lessor prophets", flatly contrary to their demented claims. King Jesus wins. . . by going "lower" yet! Did you see that one coming?
Or think of that hayseed, that rube, the Tishbite Elijah. Talk about "country"! Yet, in that viewing, we are forced to admit that Eli was a downright sophisticated celebrity, Mr. socialite jet-setter-pants in person, compared to the Ultimate "Nobody", the King of Jews! And to Him (?), All Dominion, in Heaven and upon the Earth, be rightfully His-Own-Ever? Beautifully, we learn to shout; "Yes Sir!".
Penniless, naked, and battered beyond recognition (and He wasn't much to look at, to start with?), friendless, alone He dies condemned a "traitor" to the empire. This Guy, if ever in history anybody; has "Zero-Status" nailed, or perhaps it's running in negative numbers(?); His gravitas, a null set! And just "here", the poetry of faith demands that the Most-High kiss the Lowest-of-Low. Truth meets Beauty, with a big hug, and a kiss! View then, the One sane Man, fully God, fully Human, in His body, He holds together what would tear asunder the "greatest" mere creature. . . available!
We obey because we love, not in order to gain acceptance. Or better, we love in that first, He loved! Truth said; "Jesus, (indeed!) is Lord (to the glory of the Father Almighty!). In the long haul, it don't really matter much about your opinion on the matter, whether you agree or not; because, truth said; "You certainly Shall!". . . Our truth, our faith-romance says that He has, centuries-ago taken up The Sceptre. Today, all reality, is His lawful domain. You don't "make Him" Lord, you (with Holy Aid) acknowledge it. It's not for the parent's good, it's in the kid's best interests, that; they acquire the habit of believing what they are told!
After all, we may as well begin today, this-here is the permanent arrangement of affairs, and best we walk awake, than sleep-walking unto a rude awakening . . . yonder-when!
Note to reader: You guessed, I quit!
Truth per-se ends up sounding rather like a freshman course in formal logic, or the study of rhetoric? We introduce second graders to addition, and counting, but we are careful not to assert that such knowledge is all there is to math. Yet, over in truth-land, this type of proviso appears frequently A.W.O.L. ? Such stuff sounds to many, far too rigid, just more rules! Newsflash, this just in: "Humans are not fond of 'just more rules'. . ." Who knew? The missing ingredient might best be spoken in our tongue, as the "romance of truth". This utterly crucial vitamin, this necessary food of a romantic-true; appears in our land to be mighty scarce stuff!
Dave M., our Sunday-school instructor; mentioned recently that the early Christian believers were called by some "The haters of Mankind". What a lovely ring to it! Hey, now; that I like! The empire (recall) was not based upon credo nor upon locale. Nor was she united by "race", kindred or religion. . . unless we resort to the Imperial cultus, as the religion in question! One thing (precisely), built and welded that crazy international contraption together. . . that being, the "genius of Caesar"!
Our modern and slovenly usage of the word "genius", tends to overlook the basic idea involved, i.e., that of a "genie", or more revoltingly, a "tutelary spirit". To be blunt here, we moderns might best analyze the situation then as; Caesar was (best case!) simply delusional, and no real harm done. . . but the other option is that the creep was either oppressed or possessed by (perhaps more than one?) demonic intelligence(es?). Not, I say Not; a wholesome cult-tural development, that!
The romance of truth, the poetry of faith resides, think I, over somewheres in this region. . . Enter "Speculation-ville". Let's trace out the Lord's prayer for a moment.
1. Father (ours) > Thine the Power < I AM, the life
2. Heaven (You seated-in) > Thine the Kingdom < I AM, the truth
3. Name-Thine Holy-is-was-shall be > Thine the glory < I AM, the way
Okay, okay; so I tossed in John 14 too. Deal with it, and move on. My brainwave here is that we keep popping up with "threes". In this formatting, we derive; Father-Life-Power, next we find Seated-King-Heavenly-Kingdom (itself)-Truth, yielding a final triad of Name-Holy-Glorious-Way. ya dig?
My drift here (in case I am am being obtuse) is that in this scheme, truth is "naturally" linked to to "domain". Truth, and "turf" in this view, are "cousins", perhaps? The sanely legal dominion of the High King somehow or another "connects to the true". See? I keep on thinking that "truth" is a bit like 2+2=4, so learn the pattern and save to memory. . . Here, we get instead, something like, "The actual truth of the matter is His assertion; 'I just happen to own numbers, hence all of them work by My rules, and there exists no abstract truth, true of it's own self'. . ." The Bible is saying "Truth" and "King", always, always "intersect". There is no such thing as "impersonal truth"!
Think back with me on John 18, for instance. Good King Joshua is saying: "If My kingdom was based down here, then My folks would be rioting" (or to that effect?). Later on, He clearly says to ratface, "I came to bear witness of truth". Pilate responds; "Truth, schmooth, what's that racket all about?", or some such noise.
Do you sense a problem here? Mr. glossy-shiny, big-shot "looks down upon" this flat-broke Hillbilly from nowheres-ville, and (in effect) is asserting: "Truth? Hey Yokel, you got none!" Ergo, truth in Pilate's estimate at least; appears to be a type of "swagga", the look, the shine and gravitas of power and influence. You know the drill here, is Josh a man of influence, does He have "important" friends, and more crucially; is He "connected"? And in old Pie's estimation, this Hick from tiny Nazareth just ain't got the stuff of power, or of real authority, and thus, He "cannot" be a man of truth! Gee, how did I miss that gem all these years?
The romance of truth might appear as you informing your two year old. . . "Because, young man, I Say So!". And then setting back to observe where, or how the message "takes". Does the kiddo "buy it"? We shall see, surely we shall (indeed) see! In this type of format, you are doing the little stinker a huge favor, and linking (for him) truth-to-person, and never truth-to-axiom. And as things turn out, you are correct to do so, in that Truth (Herself!) always, always links to "Person" (Himself!). Ergo, we safely infer same of the sister in question, Beauty. His Truth therefore, is not a flat nor static assessment of "is", so much as a glad song of friendship and welcome! It's an "invite" not an announcement!
This (somewhat) established then, the message He sends the 70 out with is. . . plainly weird, unless we use this type lens to see-by, "Say to them, the Kingdom is at hand!". This, my friend, is "the truth of gospel". Do the tykes "buy it"? We shall see, we (indeed!) shall see.
We skinny mortals keep imagining truth to be "dull". In reality, such an estimation is at best, an analysis of my dullness; and my stubborn refusal "to buy". Witness; The all-time, all-out slam-down, cage match of W.W.F.! "In this corner, the entire. . . freaking world (!) wearing the black mask, and purple trunks. . . and in this corner, the Challenger (singular?) that un-armed Hillbilly from who can recall where? Him wearing the white trunks, and that oddly ring-shaped white Stetson. . I object! Such a fight cannot be possibly be "fair", and especially so, when we consider that against all "odds", against all expectations, hey; against even basic "decency(!)" that Dude is mopping the floor with those cats! Further, not only is He winning,. . in some faith-sense, it's already over! Wow, talk about a mismatch! Those guys never even "stood a chance" of winning.
Truth-wise thus, we thereby infer that there can be no final dispute between science and faith. That was yet another of our dull-wit abstractions friend. The actual grudge-match has always been about our miserable, and self-contradictory "authorities" down here (and below) vainly attempting to duke it out with King Yeshua. Such an unfair fight! He, the 'Underdog" (at alarming levels of 'under dogginess') consistently thumps them all-combined!
We observe there-by, that Truth-enforced by King is contrasted with truths (plural) foisted-upon us by frauds, fools, and perverts. Or at minimum, it's much more like that, than 2+2, ever was. Neither Joseph Smith, nor Mohammed shall ever "equal" the least-of the "lessor prophets", flatly contrary to their demented claims. King Jesus wins. . . by going "lower" yet! Did you see that one coming?
Or think of that hayseed, that rube, the Tishbite Elijah. Talk about "country"! Yet, in that viewing, we are forced to admit that Eli was a downright sophisticated celebrity, Mr. socialite jet-setter-pants in person, compared to the Ultimate "Nobody", the King of Jews! And to Him (?), All Dominion, in Heaven and upon the Earth, be rightfully His-Own-Ever? Beautifully, we learn to shout; "Yes Sir!".
Penniless, naked, and battered beyond recognition (and He wasn't much to look at, to start with?), friendless, alone He dies condemned a "traitor" to the empire. This Guy, if ever in history anybody; has "Zero-Status" nailed, or perhaps it's running in negative numbers(?); His gravitas, a null set! And just "here", the poetry of faith demands that the Most-High kiss the Lowest-of-Low. Truth meets Beauty, with a big hug, and a kiss! View then, the One sane Man, fully God, fully Human, in His body, He holds together what would tear asunder the "greatest" mere creature. . . available!
We obey because we love, not in order to gain acceptance. Or better, we love in that first, He loved! Truth said; "Jesus, (indeed!) is Lord (to the glory of the Father Almighty!). In the long haul, it don't really matter much about your opinion on the matter, whether you agree or not; because, truth said; "You certainly Shall!". . . Our truth, our faith-romance says that He has, centuries-ago taken up The Sceptre. Today, all reality, is His lawful domain. You don't "make Him" Lord, you (with Holy Aid) acknowledge it. It's not for the parent's good, it's in the kid's best interests, that; they acquire the habit of believing what they are told!
After all, we may as well begin today, this-here is the permanent arrangement of affairs, and best we walk awake, than sleep-walking unto a rude awakening . . . yonder-when!
Note to reader: You guessed, I quit!
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Creative cursing #26 (date unknown)
Do you know when it happened? Historically speaking, and I'm clearly guessing here; we ought look at sometime after the American revolution, and prior to the war of Northern aggression? Cursing came. . . to a screeching halt!
Now, I'm predicting over here that you're already saying; "Don't be a knuckle-head Junior, of course cursing didn't end!". Uhm, are we so awfully certain, just. . . "here"?, I'd likely respond. See, my point of contention herein is that "Victorian" ethos, yonder among the Brits, and a corresponding "School-marmish" neo-ethic prevailed. In the war of ideas, they won the day. I, Mike Labor, am hereby asserting, that socially, internationally, and really; cursing (in fact) did end.
The "progressives" in our midst, to this day, continue to grouse about the Victorian inhibitions (usually sexual) which we to this day; "suffer under", did you notice? Together, the international drift of things, was toward a public decency, a civilized, and sophisticated outward carriage of the person, such that, certain things are just never said. They. . . won, deal with it, and move on. Heck, to this very hour, one can just tune into talk radio, to hear the many callers as "desperate" to grasp; "What "can we do" to restore decency and common sense in the land? I am "concerned about standards" in television, (or is it?) movies, or the pop-music "industries", what can we "do" to . . . restore our former greatness?". Kinda sad, huh? I say, this Victorian/School-marmishness ethos, like all our endeavors, produced, unintended consequences, and as such is flatly unable, and unwilling to ever once note that cursing and cussing may well be brothers, but were never identical twins. Nowadays, the brothers are no longer on friendly, speaking terms. . .
Cussing remained, cursing departed, it's about that complex. Geo. Carlin outlined for us, some-when our cult-ural seven (or so?) taboo words. And, as long as those are not said, we might safely infer that cussing did not occur. Decency, is thus preserved! Uhm, "Yeah, for 'progress'. . . or some such?". Somehow, cursing was relegated to a backwater status, that (should it actually exist at all) only witches, or perhaps voodoo queens really ever curse, as in; "the verb; 'To place under the influence of a spell, or incantation, to bewitch'. . .". Spooky thought; that! The very idea of causing by ordered speech, an "inexplicable" ruination of foes, simply disappeared off our radar? Or, did it?
To break a foe via verbal, and/or body ritual, so to crush, to hound and frustrate said foe's life unto an "uncanny" collapse. . . whatever in heck that finally proves to be; cannot be the same as using the "f-bomb" in public! Different brother, but at the divorce, cursing "officially ended" whereas cussing stayed put, but lives on only "technically, and in private".
Personally, I have mixed emotions on the topic of cussing. As a believer, I'm supposed to be opposed to the practice, but in fact, find it difficult to "care". For the unbeliever, his growing up years very likely included more than a tad of salty language, and so to speak, it is his "natural mother-tongue". Now, I've yet to hear of the Wycliffe translator all jazzed about translating Scripture into that particular "heart-language". . . Further, I doubt that such, a Carlin's Bible would prove so awfully popular a best seller. This particular "vulgar tongue" ain't prezackly what our friends set out to do, I'd hazard here.
The downside of such, it seems is that if one's actual, and daily used language is perpetually off-limits, then prayer f'r instance, is going to be forced over into an awfully blasted slender topical menu. See, like maybe the Almighty ain't yet wise to that lingo, we'd best set a good example with the Chap, and only talk-nice. . . it's for His own good, you see; we wouldn't want to corrupt the Gent upstairs, now would we?; is the reality which "accidentally" falls out. So, in prayer, we don't have much we "can say"! Yet worse than that dumb misery, in the paucity of our talking-back to Him, those things we really do intend to say, are found to be "un-safe" to ever once assert? Sad, and stupid?, yep; that's us! Thanks tons, Vicky. . .
Join me then as we observe a cult-ure devoid of cursing, officially at least, and opposed to cussing, at minimum in principle, also, I say also, is "co-incidentally" one in which prayer, by in large is gone dormant. I think it wrong headed of us to teach children to; "Tell Him your heart", but to never ever apply your real heart-language! So, I retain an ambivilence just "here". Am I wrong? Such guck of ours yields the big mystery of; "Just why are our young folk wandering from the Captain. . . what did we do wrong?" A Carlin Bible is (likely) not the cure here, but I say, the product of disenfranchising the next gens, is precisely the "Vick-stress'es actual victory". Recall, that side won. Who knew?
Supposing then for a moment, that you unaccountably escaped this pointless trainwreck we view here, and indeed do pray, why do we believers retain the School-marmish prohibition against cursing? Why are we the ones to enforce the divorce decree? What prezackly, are we to "do" with David's prayer; "Teach my hands to war!"? The institutions of this world those bureaucratic idiocies we love to mock, plus the plain futility of erecting "more, and new rules", the stubborn blindnesses and meanness of "the great", all this noise about us; finally tips! From sheer blockheadedness, plus pointlessly boneheaded incompetence of our public "servants", this inevitably leaks over into flatly evil deeds. Had you noticed? Those damnable TSA creeps fondling old ladies and. . . even babies? This is clearly, clearly gone beyond the usual clumsy stupid boondogglery; it's hellish.
Uhm, does the School-marm ever "allow us". . . to note this? At what point exactly, I inquire; since when do dead foreign queens "authorize" our rightful, and bound duty. . . to (the verb) Curse?
Recall our actual situation on the ground. The reality is; the men might well be yet be sheared off from their hellion captors, and plainly we are under orders to bless even the creepiest of creeps. So what? This discussion is not about that topic, we are discussing lawful cursing! And to those wrecks, those ex-persons which fell from above, along with their thoroughly damned-to-hell king, we are free to say; with good King David: "Yea, shatter his jaw. . .
Break inwardly his knees, and make his path slippery. . .
Chain him in darkness, and grind him. . .
Down!".
And in that speaking, be without a single hesitation.
Do you see my meaning? It is we, we who with and in Lord Christ, have authority to both. . . bless, and curse! Of course, we bless our (human-ONLY) enemies and say; "free that sordid TSA pervert from his dark fixation, before he goes too far, and can never come back"! But such is a moot and unrelated point in this C.P.E..
We have mistaken (think I) nice/decent with good/holy. Moreover, we did it on purpose! The clue is covenantal. The merely "nice" person has yet to be freed to indeed Fear Him, and this contrasting with the good one who does, and is free to say so. It's about our mouths being opened, so to speak truth. Truth, by definition; excludes, deal with it already.
Speech: "By your words, you shall be judged" means ergo, every careless thoughtless word of mine shall surely come up for review. If the high-holy sacrifice at Calvary, for any reason whatsoever "fails" to cover my guilt and shame, if it "forgets to forget" my lawful condemnation, I. . . have. . . no hope. . . period!
Yet we do! Our Hope lives. He in Person the High Word (Himself!) to shatter-forever, to tread down, destroy, and ruin; lives at peace with the High Blessing; to feed, to call home, to heal and to raise (again) alive. It's never some bland homogenization, a little of this, and a dash of that, it's the Covenant Reality; it's a both/and type of full-tilt-bozo, glad acceleration to the victory finish! Immanuel takes the trainwreck of Holy Judgement upon Himself, taking-with-Him, His foes in that righteous disaster.
Out of that wreckage, He-alone (and then, them hidden-in Him) is the only Survivor! But, that's enough, and far more than enough, it's a flatly supernatural victory, Covenant realized, Covenant enacted, and frankly, I'm damned glad of it!
Note to reader; okay I quit trying to "not-repair". Let's just be honest, and call this C.P.E., a newbie, and move on. . .
Now, I'm predicting over here that you're already saying; "Don't be a knuckle-head Junior, of course cursing didn't end!". Uhm, are we so awfully certain, just. . . "here"?, I'd likely respond. See, my point of contention herein is that "Victorian" ethos, yonder among the Brits, and a corresponding "School-marmish" neo-ethic prevailed. In the war of ideas, they won the day. I, Mike Labor, am hereby asserting, that socially, internationally, and really; cursing (in fact) did end.
The "progressives" in our midst, to this day, continue to grouse about the Victorian inhibitions (usually sexual) which we to this day; "suffer under", did you notice? Together, the international drift of things, was toward a public decency, a civilized, and sophisticated outward carriage of the person, such that, certain things are just never said. They. . . won, deal with it, and move on. Heck, to this very hour, one can just tune into talk radio, to hear the many callers as "desperate" to grasp; "What "can we do" to restore decency and common sense in the land? I am "concerned about standards" in television, (or is it?) movies, or the pop-music "industries", what can we "do" to . . . restore our former greatness?". Kinda sad, huh? I say, this Victorian/School-marmishness ethos, like all our endeavors, produced, unintended consequences, and as such is flatly unable, and unwilling to ever once note that cursing and cussing may well be brothers, but were never identical twins. Nowadays, the brothers are no longer on friendly, speaking terms. . .
Cussing remained, cursing departed, it's about that complex. Geo. Carlin outlined for us, some-when our cult-ural seven (or so?) taboo words. And, as long as those are not said, we might safely infer that cussing did not occur. Decency, is thus preserved! Uhm, "Yeah, for 'progress'. . . or some such?". Somehow, cursing was relegated to a backwater status, that (should it actually exist at all) only witches, or perhaps voodoo queens really ever curse, as in; "the verb; 'To place under the influence of a spell, or incantation, to bewitch'. . .". Spooky thought; that! The very idea of causing by ordered speech, an "inexplicable" ruination of foes, simply disappeared off our radar? Or, did it?
To break a foe via verbal, and/or body ritual, so to crush, to hound and frustrate said foe's life unto an "uncanny" collapse. . . whatever in heck that finally proves to be; cannot be the same as using the "f-bomb" in public! Different brother, but at the divorce, cursing "officially ended" whereas cussing stayed put, but lives on only "technically, and in private".
Personally, I have mixed emotions on the topic of cussing. As a believer, I'm supposed to be opposed to the practice, but in fact, find it difficult to "care". For the unbeliever, his growing up years very likely included more than a tad of salty language, and so to speak, it is his "natural mother-tongue". Now, I've yet to hear of the Wycliffe translator all jazzed about translating Scripture into that particular "heart-language". . . Further, I doubt that such, a Carlin's Bible would prove so awfully popular a best seller. This particular "vulgar tongue" ain't prezackly what our friends set out to do, I'd hazard here.
The downside of such, it seems is that if one's actual, and daily used language is perpetually off-limits, then prayer f'r instance, is going to be forced over into an awfully blasted slender topical menu. See, like maybe the Almighty ain't yet wise to that lingo, we'd best set a good example with the Chap, and only talk-nice. . . it's for His own good, you see; we wouldn't want to corrupt the Gent upstairs, now would we?; is the reality which "accidentally" falls out. So, in prayer, we don't have much we "can say"! Yet worse than that dumb misery, in the paucity of our talking-back to Him, those things we really do intend to say, are found to be "un-safe" to ever once assert? Sad, and stupid?, yep; that's us! Thanks tons, Vicky. . .
Join me then as we observe a cult-ure devoid of cursing, officially at least, and opposed to cussing, at minimum in principle, also, I say also, is "co-incidentally" one in which prayer, by in large is gone dormant. I think it wrong headed of us to teach children to; "Tell Him your heart", but to never ever apply your real heart-language! So, I retain an ambivilence just "here". Am I wrong? Such guck of ours yields the big mystery of; "Just why are our young folk wandering from the Captain. . . what did we do wrong?" A Carlin Bible is (likely) not the cure here, but I say, the product of disenfranchising the next gens, is precisely the "Vick-stress'es actual victory". Recall, that side won. Who knew?
Supposing then for a moment, that you unaccountably escaped this pointless trainwreck we view here, and indeed do pray, why do we believers retain the School-marmish prohibition against cursing? Why are we the ones to enforce the divorce decree? What prezackly, are we to "do" with David's prayer; "Teach my hands to war!"? The institutions of this world those bureaucratic idiocies we love to mock, plus the plain futility of erecting "more, and new rules", the stubborn blindnesses and meanness of "the great", all this noise about us; finally tips! From sheer blockheadedness, plus pointlessly boneheaded incompetence of our public "servants", this inevitably leaks over into flatly evil deeds. Had you noticed? Those damnable TSA creeps fondling old ladies and. . . even babies? This is clearly, clearly gone beyond the usual clumsy stupid boondogglery; it's hellish.
Uhm, does the School-marm ever "allow us". . . to note this? At what point exactly, I inquire; since when do dead foreign queens "authorize" our rightful, and bound duty. . . to (the verb) Curse?
Recall our actual situation on the ground. The reality is; the men might well be yet be sheared off from their hellion captors, and plainly we are under orders to bless even the creepiest of creeps. So what? This discussion is not about that topic, we are discussing lawful cursing! And to those wrecks, those ex-persons which fell from above, along with their thoroughly damned-to-hell king, we are free to say; with good King David: "Yea, shatter his jaw. . .
Break inwardly his knees, and make his path slippery. . .
Chain him in darkness, and grind him. . .
Down!".
And in that speaking, be without a single hesitation.
Do you see my meaning? It is we, we who with and in Lord Christ, have authority to both. . . bless, and curse! Of course, we bless our (human-ONLY) enemies and say; "free that sordid TSA pervert from his dark fixation, before he goes too far, and can never come back"! But such is a moot and unrelated point in this C.P.E..
We have mistaken (think I) nice/decent with good/holy. Moreover, we did it on purpose! The clue is covenantal. The merely "nice" person has yet to be freed to indeed Fear Him, and this contrasting with the good one who does, and is free to say so. It's about our mouths being opened, so to speak truth. Truth, by definition; excludes, deal with it already.
Speech: "By your words, you shall be judged" means ergo, every careless thoughtless word of mine shall surely come up for review. If the high-holy sacrifice at Calvary, for any reason whatsoever "fails" to cover my guilt and shame, if it "forgets to forget" my lawful condemnation, I. . . have. . . no hope. . . period!
Yet we do! Our Hope lives. He in Person the High Word (Himself!) to shatter-forever, to tread down, destroy, and ruin; lives at peace with the High Blessing; to feed, to call home, to heal and to raise (again) alive. It's never some bland homogenization, a little of this, and a dash of that, it's the Covenant Reality; it's a both/and type of full-tilt-bozo, glad acceleration to the victory finish! Immanuel takes the trainwreck of Holy Judgement upon Himself, taking-with-Him, His foes in that righteous disaster.
Out of that wreckage, He-alone (and then, them hidden-in Him) is the only Survivor! But, that's enough, and far more than enough, it's a flatly supernatural victory, Covenant realized, Covenant enacted, and frankly, I'm damned glad of it!
Note to reader; okay I quit trying to "not-repair". Let's just be honest, and call this C.P.E., a newbie, and move on. . .
Thursday, September 18, 2014
A Letter To Gilbert
Note to reader: What follows isn't a C.P.E. at all, but rather a transcription of a letter I recently wrote on graph paper, to a local auto mechanic. I so enjoyed myself; writing it, that the idea that you also might like looking it over too(?), crossed my mind today.
Instead of viewing it as a mere sarcasm-bomb, try imagining it as a first try at "conflict resolution". I've never really attempted to do that, when I feel wronged, I just "suck it up, and move on". . . I hear-by promise to not "repair" the original, but simply record what was written that night.
5 Sep 2014
Dear Gilbert,
I came into your establishment seeking repairs on my '96 Toyota Tacoma. That was 6 Aug, 2014. I was billed, and paid (check #xyz1 BOA), for services rendered. The single reason I approached you, was due to my seeking advice, as to whom to (best) deal with my recent transmission issues.
When hot, and at a stop, the beginning phase of accel was beginning to "slip". B & G Total Alignment sent me to you. That. . . was my error and believe me, I shall NOT repeat it!
You found water in my ATF fluid. I said: "That's weird. How could water get in there anyhow?". Your response was something like: "I can't imagine! I've been doing this for 19 years, and have never seen this before!". I thought: "Uh-oh, this sounds expensive", but said instead: "What can we do?".
Now we get to the weird part. You suggested draining . . ."what we can". . .(?) of the fluid, refilling (about) 1/2 the fluid, and refilling. . . I asked: "Why not just drain it all?". You said: "We have no way of getting it out." I said; "Well, how come Roper's Lubri-cator "can", and you "can't"?". You replied; "We do not have the equipment for that type of work". I should have ended the transaction there and then. It was my error to agree to your "suggested fix". I take responsibility.
About one week later; the problem began manifesting again. I spoke with you on the phone, Friday evening about 5:30 p.m. (15 Aug 2014). I wish now, I had recorded the conversation! It was a gem! You informed me that Gilbert's "Transmission Service" is not open on Saturdays, and that I should (apparently, skip work?) bring it in again, Monday morning. Your keen insight on the matter ran thus: "Well, maybe it's something down in the transmission, causing the problem, we'll have to take it apart and 'see what we can find'. . .(!)". Gosh, that's a GREAT suggestion!
As I recall, it was precisely at that moment, that I decided, "This guy is NEVER getting near my truck again!". Gadzooks! He "thinks maybe (?) something 'might be' wrong?". Uhm, aren't we already quite certain. . . just there?
So, I did what I should have done 10 days earlier, and brought it to Roper's (oddly enough) upon a bright Saturday morning. Prior to that stop, I went to Auto Zone.
For Free (?) they dumped the codes in my truck's computer, to see if (possibly) a solenoid fault was showing up. . . uh, does Gilbert's have that "equipment"? Nothing on the tranny showed up: Ergo, there is no "problem somewhere down inside the transmission".
Question: How come the lady at A.Z. KNEW-so. . . and you were still guessing? What's up, with that?
Further, I described to the lube-guy at Roper's, my problem. I asked: "Supposing I wanted to get water in my transmission for some pointless reason, how could it get in there?". He said: "It's easy, I see that problem 'all the time'...".
Isn't that interesting? Don't you think that is a memorable quote Mr. G? "In fact, (said the man) there are 'at minimum' two (!) ways water can enter the fluid.". Two?.. And the guy with 19 years service has "never" seen this before?
I asked; "Is it even possible to evacuate ALL of the fluid, plus-water out of there, and refill?". He said; "Well, it's gong to be expensive, but we do it all the time". "Do it", said I. One hour and nine minutes later, NOT four hours and 47 minutes, like some people. . . he wrapped it up. I was out an additional $120.87, and it is money well spent. trust me, on that.
Upon leaving Roper's, I decided to give it several weeks in order to observe the results of their work, prior to writing you this letter, of which they shall receive a duplicate. I wanted to find out if their simple and easy fix, rather than dis-assembling the thing, in order to "look around"(!) was going to work properly. It has.
The way I see it, you charged me 20 more bucks than they, in order to do "one half" of the job, while working at 1/4 the speed! You owe me.
It's odd (don't you agree?) that somehow; I became a "better" transmission diagnostician in about 17 minutes of friendly conversation with a young pup, than a man with OVER 228 months(?) of experience at destroying perfectly good devices?
I finish this essay with four points, a parting shot, a request, a suggestion to better serve your (poor pitiful) customers, and a promise!
The parting shot goes this-a-way. Perhaps 12-14 days after(?) your "work was completed", I received a phone call from a lady at Gilbert's Trans Svc. I do not recall her name. Anyhow, she inquired: "Is this the labor union?". I replied; "Huh? Uhm, well, no it isn't, but my last name is "Labor", does that help?". She informed me that nobody at Gilbert's "could figure out" the billing information. I thought; but did not say: "Good God, What amateurs! She has (or had) my personal check (#xyz1 BOA) WITH MY name printed in BOLD in the upper let corner. . ."? I had those checks "specially ordered" in that way. . .you see? Very bizarre business plan you have there Mr. G.
As per the recommendation; either change the signage to read; "Gilbert's Fishing Expeditions", or (God forbid!) buy some effing tools to DO. . . your JOB! For starters, I'd go hang around Auto Zone for a few minutes and ask; "Hey, where could a guy find one of those fancy, newfangled "code-reader" thingies anyhow?". Next, go to the professionals at Roper's Lube, and plead with them to show you precisely how to drain a transmission beyond the half way point, and where in honking hades a chap might buy the "equipment" to do so! Just a thought there. . . ZANY huh?
Per the request, I'm asking you to do the right-business, professional gig, and refund my money in FULL.
And my promise? Well, it's twofold. First I promise never ever ever to bother you for any reason, or ask any service of you. Ain't that "big" of me? But the better part of the promise please? I promise never to tell you, under any circumstance how water might possibly enter an automatic transmission!
You see? It's a "trade secret" which, over my vast 27 minutes of training I must closely guard! My lips are sealed. . . except to tell babies, chimpanzees, and those seeking advice. My advice friend? Go to Roper's! They are the pros! They work real fast! Wow, and they are real reasonably priced too!
Godspeed to you, and your house, my prayers are with you, and FOR you.
Sincerely,
Mike LABOR (union)
P.S. To reader: the only changes I made are to go all-cap on "key" words. Still can't figure out this font thing, so to UNDERLINE! Strangely, have not yet heard from Gil? Wonder why?
Instead of viewing it as a mere sarcasm-bomb, try imagining it as a first try at "conflict resolution". I've never really attempted to do that, when I feel wronged, I just "suck it up, and move on". . . I hear-by promise to not "repair" the original, but simply record what was written that night.
5 Sep 2014
Dear Gilbert,
I came into your establishment seeking repairs on my '96 Toyota Tacoma. That was 6 Aug, 2014. I was billed, and paid (check #xyz1 BOA), for services rendered. The single reason I approached you, was due to my seeking advice, as to whom to (best) deal with my recent transmission issues.
When hot, and at a stop, the beginning phase of accel was beginning to "slip". B & G Total Alignment sent me to you. That. . . was my error and believe me, I shall NOT repeat it!
You found water in my ATF fluid. I said: "That's weird. How could water get in there anyhow?". Your response was something like: "I can't imagine! I've been doing this for 19 years, and have never seen this before!". I thought: "Uh-oh, this sounds expensive", but said instead: "What can we do?".
Now we get to the weird part. You suggested draining . . ."what we can". . .(?) of the fluid, refilling (about) 1/2 the fluid, and refilling. . . I asked: "Why not just drain it all?". You said: "We have no way of getting it out." I said; "Well, how come Roper's Lubri-cator "can", and you "can't"?". You replied; "We do not have the equipment for that type of work". I should have ended the transaction there and then. It was my error to agree to your "suggested fix". I take responsibility.
About one week later; the problem began manifesting again. I spoke with you on the phone, Friday evening about 5:30 p.m. (15 Aug 2014). I wish now, I had recorded the conversation! It was a gem! You informed me that Gilbert's "Transmission Service" is not open on Saturdays, and that I should (apparently, skip work?) bring it in again, Monday morning. Your keen insight on the matter ran thus: "Well, maybe it's something down in the transmission, causing the problem, we'll have to take it apart and 'see what we can find'. . .(!)". Gosh, that's a GREAT suggestion!
As I recall, it was precisely at that moment, that I decided, "This guy is NEVER getting near my truck again!". Gadzooks! He "thinks maybe (?) something 'might be' wrong?". Uhm, aren't we already quite certain. . . just there?
So, I did what I should have done 10 days earlier, and brought it to Roper's (oddly enough) upon a bright Saturday morning. Prior to that stop, I went to Auto Zone.
For Free (?) they dumped the codes in my truck's computer, to see if (possibly) a solenoid fault was showing up. . . uh, does Gilbert's have that "equipment"? Nothing on the tranny showed up: Ergo, there is no "problem somewhere down inside the transmission".
Question: How come the lady at A.Z. KNEW-so. . . and you were still guessing? What's up, with that?
Further, I described to the lube-guy at Roper's, my problem. I asked: "Supposing I wanted to get water in my transmission for some pointless reason, how could it get in there?". He said: "It's easy, I see that problem 'all the time'...".
Isn't that interesting? Don't you think that is a memorable quote Mr. G? "In fact, (said the man) there are 'at minimum' two (!) ways water can enter the fluid.". Two?.. And the guy with 19 years service has "never" seen this before?
I asked; "Is it even possible to evacuate ALL of the fluid, plus-water out of there, and refill?". He said; "Well, it's gong to be expensive, but we do it all the time". "Do it", said I. One hour and nine minutes later, NOT four hours and 47 minutes, like some people. . . he wrapped it up. I was out an additional $120.87, and it is money well spent. trust me, on that.
Upon leaving Roper's, I decided to give it several weeks in order to observe the results of their work, prior to writing you this letter, of which they shall receive a duplicate. I wanted to find out if their simple and easy fix, rather than dis-assembling the thing, in order to "look around"(!) was going to work properly. It has.
The way I see it, you charged me 20 more bucks than they, in order to do "one half" of the job, while working at 1/4 the speed! You owe me.
It's odd (don't you agree?) that somehow; I became a "better" transmission diagnostician in about 17 minutes of friendly conversation with a young pup, than a man with OVER 228 months(?) of experience at destroying perfectly good devices?
I finish this essay with four points, a parting shot, a request, a suggestion to better serve your (poor pitiful) customers, and a promise!
The parting shot goes this-a-way. Perhaps 12-14 days after(?) your "work was completed", I received a phone call from a lady at Gilbert's Trans Svc. I do not recall her name. Anyhow, she inquired: "Is this the labor union?". I replied; "Huh? Uhm, well, no it isn't, but my last name is "Labor", does that help?". She informed me that nobody at Gilbert's "could figure out" the billing information. I thought; but did not say: "Good God, What amateurs! She has (or had) my personal check (#xyz1 BOA) WITH MY name printed in BOLD in the upper let corner. . ."? I had those checks "specially ordered" in that way. . .you see? Very bizarre business plan you have there Mr. G.
As per the recommendation; either change the signage to read; "Gilbert's Fishing Expeditions", or (God forbid!) buy some effing tools to DO. . . your JOB! For starters, I'd go hang around Auto Zone for a few minutes and ask; "Hey, where could a guy find one of those fancy, newfangled "code-reader" thingies anyhow?". Next, go to the professionals at Roper's Lube, and plead with them to show you precisely how to drain a transmission beyond the half way point, and where in honking hades a chap might buy the "equipment" to do so! Just a thought there. . . ZANY huh?
Per the request, I'm asking you to do the right-business, professional gig, and refund my money in FULL.
And my promise? Well, it's twofold. First I promise never ever ever to bother you for any reason, or ask any service of you. Ain't that "big" of me? But the better part of the promise please? I promise never to tell you, under any circumstance how water might possibly enter an automatic transmission!
You see? It's a "trade secret" which, over my vast 27 minutes of training I must closely guard! My lips are sealed. . . except to tell babies, chimpanzees, and those seeking advice. My advice friend? Go to Roper's! They are the pros! They work real fast! Wow, and they are real reasonably priced too!
Godspeed to you, and your house, my prayers are with you, and FOR you.
Sincerely,
Mike LABOR (union)
P.S. To reader: the only changes I made are to go all-cap on "key" words. Still can't figure out this font thing, so to UNDERLINE! Strangely, have not yet heard from Gil? Wonder why?
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
The Dispute #27 (date unknown)
So, is it America the blessed, America, one nation under God", or is that somebody's haphazard construction of what once supposedly was? That construct designed, in order to alter what was to come? And, every winter, about this time of year, we collectively are to take up the debate (dispute actually) again?
It appears to be the "patriots" versus "the dictatorship of the offended"; formatting the two sides. A type of public policy round table sets the annual fight as; "firmly, and once for all", we "must" define the role of the state, vis-a-vis the role "religion" amid it? A windy and intricate thing it is, and it all appears to rotate about whether indeed, the founders were Christian? What (indeed!) was their intent?
In this dispute, the founders end up being sock-puppets, which most mysteriously mouth (quite well) the words of the competing puppeteers. Each side can, and does "prove" that either A. They were, or B. They were not. It's downright uncanny how very much the 18th cen. founders end up wholly agreeing with both(!) 21st cen. "modern" sides! . . . Simultaneously?
The offended "fear" an American theocracy? That is; they "fear" a far too cozy alignment of conservative faith, with conservative political policy. The twin "establishments", political-controlling and believing-activist are seen as "dangerous", when, or if ever linked.
So then, if the fear is of a too-large, and too-intrusive (conservative) combine, would we be safe to presume that the offended also (logically) favor small govt.? Don't be silly! That particular racket remains the stronghold of the patriots! Don't you recall their many "unfeeling" (and serial) cries for budget "cuts!"? Oddly, this is the very group (the pats); are they favoring public finance being "best be spent" setting up statues of dead Jews? But didn't we just say that they were the ones "against waste"? Thus, they infer (at minimum), that in the doing, in the statue-setting (manger-building), "we ensure a blessing" from the Almighty? Please! Now, He's the One all-agog at manger scenes? So, upon the doings of the political spending of the secular establishment we're buying Him off? Or what?
Indeed, it's an odd discussion we have yearly, in that much, or most of it, goes unsaid? Producing an assumed, or stealth estimate of America, as being (a bit?) "like" Israel of old, a(nother) "holy land"? Says who? What a boatload of swindle there! But worse, if we really were "like" Israel, recall that He booted those rascals out! The land-blessed, can and often historically does, become the cursed-land. "The function in that reversal there, has nothing to do with neither the presence, nor absence; of publicly financed manger scenes", we'd do well, to note occasionally.
A ship approaches a low lying island. They hear, "Come aboard, a tidal wave is coming, and you cannot survive it here.". They respond; "We're building us, our own boats, but thanks anyhow!". Across the water, the reply comes; "You have no trees". . . Such is our dispute.
Generations of islanders later, the dispute goes always two ways. Group A, (the pats) "strongly believes" that, "We are blessed as an island, to have heard the Captain's voice. We simply must be special!". Simultaneously, group B (the offended) shout back; "Balderdash! There never came any "wave", neither in our forebears day, nor in ours. The "Captain". . . if he ever actually existed, was either a con-man, or simply deluded".
The third view goes by-in-large unheard: "The wave is yet to come, and the Captain was right about both his assessment of our situation, and the wave. Moreover, the pats are wrong in assuming that we are "special", and the offended are wrong about who precisely is, or was; crazy. The forebears' refusal was based upon building with non-existent trees!". Clearly a gang of nuts.
In our day, I assume that the "fear of a theocracy" is about as nuts as one could be. . . but hey, that's me. What goes more or less unsaid on this side, is their expectation that faith, never ever becomes more than a subjective case (deeply personal!) of good feelings, and mellowness. In the context of the island, it would be like asserting that the public loudspeakers' blaring of the voice heard, was never ever a "public" thing? Each of our ancestors "must have" only felt that "voice" within them. . . and so, they "heard"?
In our annual reality, the very public appearance, and the quite public offer of aid from the unsurvivable wreckage of that true tidal wave coming, (the pure and undiluted; "public" event itself!) "contrasts" with the simply real. Some; no, Many (!) said "Yes" to His offer, in that hour. In our reality, not all of the islanders refused the assistance, nor do they today! The Voice sounds-yet, the warning, and the offer of help is yet good!
"Private and public" are turned by the True Captain inside out, and upside down. He hides our shame-public, and there are no "secrets" in His Presence.
It is group C which both privately feels, and enjoys her Maker, and publicly says so! Further, the gal firmly asserts that both groups fall far short of ever really enjoying things, or of speaking honestly. Group A appears to be blind, and group B masks her cruelty under a veneer of sentiment and mush. All satrapies, dukedoms, fiefdoms, tribal holdings, all the powers (ever!) that-be, including America the powerful. . . kneel. All knees bend to the Captain. Our "choice" never was whether or not to bend, but rather to choose if you'd best enjoy bending voluntarily, or having the knees shattered? The tidal wave; . . . is real! All, render up, to Him the Sovereign Majesty. That is, you don't "make Jesus lord". Instead, with Aid, you first begin to be aware that He Was, Is, and Shall Ever Be, God, in the flesh! He is not he One who "gains" anything by virtue of you finally admitting the real. . . to be real. Our delusional building of invisible boats, we ourselves come to (with aid) reject. It thus, "helps" us!
Our group A thinks the land is "permanently blessed". . . in that the Captain warned it, that it was well-nigh accursed? Recall the wave? Meanwhile, that group B yonder, wishes the entire event away, much preferring to name Our grand Sailor, a spook, or phantom? Hey, what a brainwave, that trick ought keep them waves at "bay"! Eh?
Thank then with me, God, for group C! They didn't all go away generations ago, as we'd feared. Those marvelous believers, even amid grief and loss have come to treasure Him above "the right answers", and for them, it's people (you I mean) above theory. Just the opposite of both of the other two! In chaos and darkness, their glad orderly lives are a light for us all. Prior to the calamity wave, they've thrown down their swords, and . . surrendered. . . unconditionally? "Traitors to mankind!" the other groups accuse. . . ah, but such warm, funny, and humble "treason" it be, they live. Never complaining? Well, maybe not, but even in hunger, pain, loss, and shame they never lose hope, trusting boldly in the real "Invisible Man"! They say; "Don't you see? By "seeing" Him, first and best, we've come to see-anew all else. But now, we can see it clearly for the first time! The fog is lifting, the new day is breaking", they insist.
It's about this time every year, great good, and glad tidings we tell. The real boat-lift rescue operation, the shielding of the many in that dreadful day; is a rip-roaring success! He is pulling it off. And so, to Him be the honor, the thanks, the heartfelt praise. He found, finds, and keeps searching. He built the boat, helps us aboard, and navigates the way to safety. He possesses a marvelous sense of direction, they say. . . He secures the way home!
With His body, by His blood, His strength and soul poured out, a passage, a door is opened. It remains unclosed, and indeed uncloseable. Well, unclosed, until He-Himself closes!
Note to reader: Clearly, these "repairs" are spinning out of control. This C.P.E. bears little resemblance at all to it's "original version". So, now we have two, with the same title? Nothing good can come of that, I'd guess.
It appears to be the "patriots" versus "the dictatorship of the offended"; formatting the two sides. A type of public policy round table sets the annual fight as; "firmly, and once for all", we "must" define the role of the state, vis-a-vis the role "religion" amid it? A windy and intricate thing it is, and it all appears to rotate about whether indeed, the founders were Christian? What (indeed!) was their intent?
In this dispute, the founders end up being sock-puppets, which most mysteriously mouth (quite well) the words of the competing puppeteers. Each side can, and does "prove" that either A. They were, or B. They were not. It's downright uncanny how very much the 18th cen. founders end up wholly agreeing with both(!) 21st cen. "modern" sides! . . . Simultaneously?
The offended "fear" an American theocracy? That is; they "fear" a far too cozy alignment of conservative faith, with conservative political policy. The twin "establishments", political-controlling and believing-activist are seen as "dangerous", when, or if ever linked.
So then, if the fear is of a too-large, and too-intrusive (conservative) combine, would we be safe to presume that the offended also (logically) favor small govt.? Don't be silly! That particular racket remains the stronghold of the patriots! Don't you recall their many "unfeeling" (and serial) cries for budget "cuts!"? Oddly, this is the very group (the pats); are they favoring public finance being "best be spent" setting up statues of dead Jews? But didn't we just say that they were the ones "against waste"? Thus, they infer (at minimum), that in the doing, in the statue-setting (manger-building), "we ensure a blessing" from the Almighty? Please! Now, He's the One all-agog at manger scenes? So, upon the doings of the political spending of the secular establishment we're buying Him off? Or what?
Indeed, it's an odd discussion we have yearly, in that much, or most of it, goes unsaid? Producing an assumed, or stealth estimate of America, as being (a bit?) "like" Israel of old, a(nother) "holy land"? Says who? What a boatload of swindle there! But worse, if we really were "like" Israel, recall that He booted those rascals out! The land-blessed, can and often historically does, become the cursed-land. "The function in that reversal there, has nothing to do with neither the presence, nor absence; of publicly financed manger scenes", we'd do well, to note occasionally.
A ship approaches a low lying island. They hear, "Come aboard, a tidal wave is coming, and you cannot survive it here.". They respond; "We're building us, our own boats, but thanks anyhow!". Across the water, the reply comes; "You have no trees". . . Such is our dispute.
Generations of islanders later, the dispute goes always two ways. Group A, (the pats) "strongly believes" that, "We are blessed as an island, to have heard the Captain's voice. We simply must be special!". Simultaneously, group B (the offended) shout back; "Balderdash! There never came any "wave", neither in our forebears day, nor in ours. The "Captain". . . if he ever actually existed, was either a con-man, or simply deluded".
The third view goes by-in-large unheard: "The wave is yet to come, and the Captain was right about both his assessment of our situation, and the wave. Moreover, the pats are wrong in assuming that we are "special", and the offended are wrong about who precisely is, or was; crazy. The forebears' refusal was based upon building with non-existent trees!". Clearly a gang of nuts.
In our day, I assume that the "fear of a theocracy" is about as nuts as one could be. . . but hey, that's me. What goes more or less unsaid on this side, is their expectation that faith, never ever becomes more than a subjective case (deeply personal!) of good feelings, and mellowness. In the context of the island, it would be like asserting that the public loudspeakers' blaring of the voice heard, was never ever a "public" thing? Each of our ancestors "must have" only felt that "voice" within them. . . and so, they "heard"?
In our annual reality, the very public appearance, and the quite public offer of aid from the unsurvivable wreckage of that true tidal wave coming, (the pure and undiluted; "public" event itself!) "contrasts" with the simply real. Some; no, Many (!) said "Yes" to His offer, in that hour. In our reality, not all of the islanders refused the assistance, nor do they today! The Voice sounds-yet, the warning, and the offer of help is yet good!
"Private and public" are turned by the True Captain inside out, and upside down. He hides our shame-public, and there are no "secrets" in His Presence.
It is group C which both privately feels, and enjoys her Maker, and publicly says so! Further, the gal firmly asserts that both groups fall far short of ever really enjoying things, or of speaking honestly. Group A appears to be blind, and group B masks her cruelty under a veneer of sentiment and mush. All satrapies, dukedoms, fiefdoms, tribal holdings, all the powers (ever!) that-be, including America the powerful. . . kneel. All knees bend to the Captain. Our "choice" never was whether or not to bend, but rather to choose if you'd best enjoy bending voluntarily, or having the knees shattered? The tidal wave; . . . is real! All, render up, to Him the Sovereign Majesty. That is, you don't "make Jesus lord". Instead, with Aid, you first begin to be aware that He Was, Is, and Shall Ever Be, God, in the flesh! He is not he One who "gains" anything by virtue of you finally admitting the real. . . to be real. Our delusional building of invisible boats, we ourselves come to (with aid) reject. It thus, "helps" us!
Our group A thinks the land is "permanently blessed". . . in that the Captain warned it, that it was well-nigh accursed? Recall the wave? Meanwhile, that group B yonder, wishes the entire event away, much preferring to name Our grand Sailor, a spook, or phantom? Hey, what a brainwave, that trick ought keep them waves at "bay"! Eh?
Thank then with me, God, for group C! They didn't all go away generations ago, as we'd feared. Those marvelous believers, even amid grief and loss have come to treasure Him above "the right answers", and for them, it's people (you I mean) above theory. Just the opposite of both of the other two! In chaos and darkness, their glad orderly lives are a light for us all. Prior to the calamity wave, they've thrown down their swords, and . . surrendered. . . unconditionally? "Traitors to mankind!" the other groups accuse. . . ah, but such warm, funny, and humble "treason" it be, they live. Never complaining? Well, maybe not, but even in hunger, pain, loss, and shame they never lose hope, trusting boldly in the real "Invisible Man"! They say; "Don't you see? By "seeing" Him, first and best, we've come to see-anew all else. But now, we can see it clearly for the first time! The fog is lifting, the new day is breaking", they insist.
It's about this time every year, great good, and glad tidings we tell. The real boat-lift rescue operation, the shielding of the many in that dreadful day; is a rip-roaring success! He is pulling it off. And so, to Him be the honor, the thanks, the heartfelt praise. He found, finds, and keeps searching. He built the boat, helps us aboard, and navigates the way to safety. He possesses a marvelous sense of direction, they say. . . He secures the way home!
With His body, by His blood, His strength and soul poured out, a passage, a door is opened. It remains unclosed, and indeed uncloseable. Well, unclosed, until He-Himself closes!
Note to reader: Clearly, these "repairs" are spinning out of control. This C.P.E. bears little resemblance at all to it's "original version". So, now we have two, with the same title? Nothing good can come of that, I'd guess.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Lincoln's War #28 (date unknown)
Well, yesterday I became an outlaw. The hither-to unknown "neo-crime", that of failure to purchase, is but one short step removed from financial terrorism. . we presume?
It's never a good thing to view a man fold like a cheap suit. Judge John Roberts, may God have mercy upon your wretched soul.
My best guess today is that for us neo-criminals, the I.R.S. will end up garnishing our wages, thus to prevent us from disobeying the "law". It's for our own good, don't you see? This nanny-state, this mommy knows best police state, is in my opinion; the necessary out-working of Lincoln's vision for the land.
The past ten years or more, I've become much less a fan of saint-Abe, than I was brought up to believe. That civil religion which we were all raised up in, over at the "pubic" schools; hallows that (self) "righteous" vato as defender of the onion, emancipator of slaves. . . too! Let's face it, civil cults are never really wholesome, let's start there!
It's an odd thing, in my estimation; that although the winner of war gets the right to write it's official history, did I just perpetually fail to notice? And what I mean is; if the North's view of that war was ostensibly all-about freeing slaves, what is thereby unspokenly inferred, is that, what we refer here to is, private slave owning. . . only. The history books consistently refuse to ever once mention public slave holding?
We have, as moderns; a kind of superiority-complex. Such a complex means that we have been instructed at gun-point, to perpetually view slavery (the institution); with distaste and loathing. We reject it as an institution; thus taught to fondly imagine we've banished same.
True, the federal entity did indeed ban private slave holding. Thus, we infer that today only public slavery exists in the onion? Gee, how did we all miss that? Uncle sam, in his white-house, becomes the only "lawful" slave holder! Thanks Abe-sters. . . The South stoutly declared that the war was all-about state sovereignty, as opposed to the entity we nowadays regard as 'the gubmint". The United States, used to be a plural usage, now; it is a singular. Did the government schools history geek ever mention that little fact, during class . . . to you? Thanks Abe, thanks just tons and acres.
Our neo-crime of failure-to purchase, is what used to be meant by the word tyranny. Simply, tyrants turn lawful men into criminals, by fiat. Please notice; the unk-ster never once assumes that a man might, of his own resources. . . pay (?) bills due? Uh, that would include medical bills too? Thanks for the vote of confidence there, unk.
The outworking of the American covenant is a soul-ish matter. All kinds of inner contradictions, duplicities, and double meanings simply must manifest, in it's historical application. Nowadays, it's happening real fast! What took the Romans centuries to undo, we are demolishing first in decades. . . and now, in month's time.
The cry of the "right" to return to our roots, is but another slave revolt. That type of thing, never works. No, we await the true novus ordo, from on-high. The High King is David's Son. The sign of David is two triangles. The upward hierarchy is a point-upward. The highest of the High, is He. . . and He also washes slave's feet. He thus occupies both high and low points in the star. At the center (sorry Dave), we nowadays spot Calvary! And that cross looks like a "jack" (a young girl's toy) in Mike's neo-design. That cross would prove to be three dimensional. Recall that the historical planar cross was 'pierced" from front to back. He, upon that infernal device, was indeed pierced (did we forget?), taking the blow in His body. Said blow "is" signal for us of the curse, the destruction, the fury-coming, so richly due us frauds. Yep, even for John Roberts (!), extending even so low, as to also be mine.
Friend, we are promiscuosly spreading a treasure, not our own. The true novus ordo is plainly unstoppabe, in that our contradictions of soul are met and surpassed in Him.
The day that Obama Inc. finished Lincoln's war for him. . . I became an outlaw. Recall that the day that Lord Christ finished Adam's war, I became a true freed-man.
Christ-alone (you see?). . . frees. He comes down, and raises. . . us-with. We learn, one goes "up" by stooping, so to favor, so to bless, them; our foes. Before the court of His law, we have only recommendation of friendship and welcome for even such as. . . John Roberts? Yes, and amen!
Unk-ster freely makes slaves of us all, and simply fails to mention it. Christ makes us freed-men, men of His (Almighty Good!) making. The weight of leviathan ever bears it downward. The cancer, left to itself, always metasticizes. That "growth" is now occurring at alarming rates. But, recall the men! The men might, yet still be sheared off from it, prior to it's timely demise.
We pray. for our enemies, and for them wrongly using us, in that we've been aided to learn somewhat the fear of God, and surely, of no man. We pray "for", them, until they-too become able to pray.
He's Coming. Our Captain of the Hosts, armed and truly, dreadfully dangerous. . . is (indeed) coming. Hey Barry, does the mere saying of it, make me there-by a terrorist/criminal to boot? At some historical-future point, the faith once delivered, "must" become "illegal". Our deeply flawed American covenant "guarantees" that much for certain!
Join me then today, and praise the One Name, "Jesu".
Were you aware that the Name MEANS, in translation; "I AM THAT AM...the sav-er"? He hears!. In fact, He hears a bit too well sometimes for my liking. . .
Oops! Dear reader forgive my meddling in a nearly "perfect C.P.E"., to do "repairs". . . willy-nilly. You gotta love "willy-nilly" in my book!
It's never a good thing to view a man fold like a cheap suit. Judge John Roberts, may God have mercy upon your wretched soul.
My best guess today is that for us neo-criminals, the I.R.S. will end up garnishing our wages, thus to prevent us from disobeying the "law". It's for our own good, don't you see? This nanny-state, this mommy knows best police state, is in my opinion; the necessary out-working of Lincoln's vision for the land.
The past ten years or more, I've become much less a fan of saint-Abe, than I was brought up to believe. That civil religion which we were all raised up in, over at the "pubic" schools; hallows that (self) "righteous" vato as defender of the onion, emancipator of slaves. . . too! Let's face it, civil cults are never really wholesome, let's start there!
It's an odd thing, in my estimation; that although the winner of war gets the right to write it's official history, did I just perpetually fail to notice? And what I mean is; if the North's view of that war was ostensibly all-about freeing slaves, what is thereby unspokenly inferred, is that, what we refer here to is, private slave owning. . . only. The history books consistently refuse to ever once mention public slave holding?
We have, as moderns; a kind of superiority-complex. Such a complex means that we have been instructed at gun-point, to perpetually view slavery (the institution); with distaste and loathing. We reject it as an institution; thus taught to fondly imagine we've banished same.
True, the federal entity did indeed ban private slave holding. Thus, we infer that today only public slavery exists in the onion? Gee, how did we all miss that? Uncle sam, in his white-house, becomes the only "lawful" slave holder! Thanks Abe-sters. . . The South stoutly declared that the war was all-about state sovereignty, as opposed to the entity we nowadays regard as 'the gubmint". The United States, used to be a plural usage, now; it is a singular. Did the government schools history geek ever mention that little fact, during class . . . to you? Thanks Abe, thanks just tons and acres.
Our neo-crime of failure-to purchase, is what used to be meant by the word tyranny. Simply, tyrants turn lawful men into criminals, by fiat. Please notice; the unk-ster never once assumes that a man might, of his own resources. . . pay (?) bills due? Uh, that would include medical bills too? Thanks for the vote of confidence there, unk.
The outworking of the American covenant is a soul-ish matter. All kinds of inner contradictions, duplicities, and double meanings simply must manifest, in it's historical application. Nowadays, it's happening real fast! What took the Romans centuries to undo, we are demolishing first in decades. . . and now, in month's time.
The cry of the "right" to return to our roots, is but another slave revolt. That type of thing, never works. No, we await the true novus ordo, from on-high. The High King is David's Son. The sign of David is two triangles. The upward hierarchy is a point-upward. The highest of the High, is He. . . and He also washes slave's feet. He thus occupies both high and low points in the star. At the center (sorry Dave), we nowadays spot Calvary! And that cross looks like a "jack" (a young girl's toy) in Mike's neo-design. That cross would prove to be three dimensional. Recall that the historical planar cross was 'pierced" from front to back. He, upon that infernal device, was indeed pierced (did we forget?), taking the blow in His body. Said blow "is" signal for us of the curse, the destruction, the fury-coming, so richly due us frauds. Yep, even for John Roberts (!), extending even so low, as to also be mine.
Friend, we are promiscuosly spreading a treasure, not our own. The true novus ordo is plainly unstoppabe, in that our contradictions of soul are met and surpassed in Him.
The day that Obama Inc. finished Lincoln's war for him. . . I became an outlaw. Recall that the day that Lord Christ finished Adam's war, I became a true freed-man.
Christ-alone (you see?). . . frees. He comes down, and raises. . . us-with. We learn, one goes "up" by stooping, so to favor, so to bless, them; our foes. Before the court of His law, we have only recommendation of friendship and welcome for even such as. . . John Roberts? Yes, and amen!
Unk-ster freely makes slaves of us all, and simply fails to mention it. Christ makes us freed-men, men of His (Almighty Good!) making. The weight of leviathan ever bears it downward. The cancer, left to itself, always metasticizes. That "growth" is now occurring at alarming rates. But, recall the men! The men might, yet still be sheared off from it, prior to it's timely demise.
We pray. for our enemies, and for them wrongly using us, in that we've been aided to learn somewhat the fear of God, and surely, of no man. We pray "for", them, until they-too become able to pray.
He's Coming. Our Captain of the Hosts, armed and truly, dreadfully dangerous. . . is (indeed) coming. Hey Barry, does the mere saying of it, make me there-by a terrorist/criminal to boot? At some historical-future point, the faith once delivered, "must" become "illegal". Our deeply flawed American covenant "guarantees" that much for certain!
Join me then today, and praise the One Name, "Jesu".
Were you aware that the Name MEANS, in translation; "I AM THAT AM...the sav-er"? He hears!. In fact, He hears a bit too well sometimes for my liking. . .
Oops! Dear reader forgive my meddling in a nearly "perfect C.P.E"., to do "repairs". . . willy-nilly. You gotta love "willy-nilly" in my book!
Worlds of Discourse #29 (date unknown)
It comes to a fella (after awhile) that there are "islands of chat", or "worlds of discourse". You can find topic-experts on these private little fields of expertise. You may drop-in and discourse-with (if you'd like), and move on. As an example, think of the Sunday newspaper. The hard news is on page 1, the editorials, back in section C. Next, you dip into sports, or dive into pets. Don't forget fashion, or arts, but best of all, satire (los funnys!).
Switch next over to the radio. Sports-talk is going head to head; with political-talk, for market share. Religion is competing yonder with oldies, country-western, and hip-hop. Each possesses it's own community, with it's own lingo, and it's own history.
How (ever?), did I succeed in "missing" this all these years?
If, what is true in me, is true in you; I find that whatever "world" I happen to be-in (just now), that those others briefly cease to have "meaning". My ego-based "me-world", and the "place" I am presently "visiting" is the "only-one" there "is"(!) . . . except when I shift to it's competitor (again). Just how did I miss this factoid all these. . . decades?
Further, each of us run our own private little "islands of chat". Those around you can (likely) predict "where" this present discussion between the two of you, is "going". Some guys "do" the gun and ammo world. Me (?), I'm pretty lousy at that one. Some guys "do" memorable sports moments, or perhaps historical battles (military), in an admirable fashion. Me (?), I run out of BBs on that front pretty quick!
Often, women prefer to shear-off into the world of fashion, or maybe the look, and feel of things. Frankly, I stink at those "worlds", and don't presume to attempt it.
Don't we all admire those who can dip into a multiplicity of "worlds of discourse" without a single hiccup, and get the info and lingo "down pat" on the first try? Any downside there-of might be charges of "glib", or being a "know-it-all". Call it a "necessary risk", and let's move on!
If our image of things were to shift to "pubic" (government) schools, we might be viewing hallways and class-rooms. Those inside the class-room, are "in" worlds of discourse. Those "in" the hallways are not, but may freely inter-communicate, such that the algebra person, can hear about the home economics gig via the hallway person? Okay, so mebbe that ain't exactly the best example?
Anyhow, this hardly matters at all (to me, at least). It's the normal human fascination with power, expertise and becoming an "insider", and what-not. Who cares? Well. . . maybe the vast-screaming majority of all humanity. . . for one? Me(?), not so much. "Isn't this guck just another form of phoney transcendentalism?", says me. I mean by that, aren't we pretending here, that we may view the world from the "outside", so to have freedom to enter-it, thus to "participate"? Y'know(?), like God (for instance) Himself? Who precisely finds such pretension "convincing" anyhow?
Now, if "like" God, you brought-in a larger-realer "world of discourse" (occasionally?) from the "outside", where you supposedly reside (?), that might be interesting. But, is it convincing? Hardly.
See? His world of discourse, His island of chat, speaks of an unthinkably deep-past, in which our present-day was called-forth, or decreed. That field of expertise, posits an incomprehensible union of Almighty-with. . . man, the-creation? "There", we we "find" Him; "up" of reality, oddly(?) accessing the real, at it's "base"? That world, that "Kingdom", posits a net sweeping across history (and so, our world too!) to there-by gather in a "new-race". Thereby, "The Man" proposes, what amounts to a "one-ended rope", the True Transcendental!
Think on that. Which world of discourse proposes anything even a bit like a one-ended extension cord? In finding that one, we begin in this world, and "trace it up" finding no other end! How very deeply weird a cord, eh? Moreover, we are not being "glib" about such a world, we don't really do any "finding" on our own, but are being "dragged in", by that very cord!
Over in the world of music, our (small) "life-song" is going on, day by day. In it, we begin to harmonize somewhat with the Larger, Realer "pattern-song" of life (Mr. Life to you). The tone of that discussion is already set, and we are to chime-in with hearty Yowsahs and Amens here and there? That is, we are not mastering said world of discourse . . . it's (He, actually) mastering us! View then, the difference between merely describing wave-function, compared to riding a 20 footer right through the tube! One set's you-personally as yet another mere expert, and the real one is sweeping us all in?
The real world of discourse, is bigger-than (always!) our abilities (or not) to talk the talk. That world, among other things, teaches us to talk right!
Our ethic then, is a glad amazement at The True-Trans One, and joy at the noticing in us, that the King of the Real would-care (at all) to come, to teach, to welcome such as us! We, the thankful, at the big switcheroo, He becomes the ugly, we the winsome, and in that finding, a new-found confidence that His promise stands! The pattern of life, is placed upon us. And so, we are finding "in" it; a big welcome home son! A blown-kiss, a big hug, mom's dinner call. . . and more! Much much more. . .
Note: This thing was a mess, junk syntax, horrendous punctuation, etc., and a few glitches otherwise "propelled" me to repair the thing. So, I lied, when I promised not to "fix" them? Deal with it.
Switch next over to the radio. Sports-talk is going head to head; with political-talk, for market share. Religion is competing yonder with oldies, country-western, and hip-hop. Each possesses it's own community, with it's own lingo, and it's own history.
How (ever?), did I succeed in "missing" this all these years?
If, what is true in me, is true in you; I find that whatever "world" I happen to be-in (just now), that those others briefly cease to have "meaning". My ego-based "me-world", and the "place" I am presently "visiting" is the "only-one" there "is"(!) . . . except when I shift to it's competitor (again). Just how did I miss this factoid all these. . . decades?
Further, each of us run our own private little "islands of chat". Those around you can (likely) predict "where" this present discussion between the two of you, is "going". Some guys "do" the gun and ammo world. Me (?), I'm pretty lousy at that one. Some guys "do" memorable sports moments, or perhaps historical battles (military), in an admirable fashion. Me (?), I run out of BBs on that front pretty quick!
Often, women prefer to shear-off into the world of fashion, or maybe the look, and feel of things. Frankly, I stink at those "worlds", and don't presume to attempt it.
Don't we all admire those who can dip into a multiplicity of "worlds of discourse" without a single hiccup, and get the info and lingo "down pat" on the first try? Any downside there-of might be charges of "glib", or being a "know-it-all". Call it a "necessary risk", and let's move on!
If our image of things were to shift to "pubic" (government) schools, we might be viewing hallways and class-rooms. Those inside the class-room, are "in" worlds of discourse. Those "in" the hallways are not, but may freely inter-communicate, such that the algebra person, can hear about the home economics gig via the hallway person? Okay, so mebbe that ain't exactly the best example?
Anyhow, this hardly matters at all (to me, at least). It's the normal human fascination with power, expertise and becoming an "insider", and what-not. Who cares? Well. . . maybe the vast-screaming majority of all humanity. . . for one? Me(?), not so much. "Isn't this guck just another form of phoney transcendentalism?", says me. I mean by that, aren't we pretending here, that we may view the world from the "outside", so to have freedom to enter-it, thus to "participate"? Y'know(?), like God (for instance) Himself? Who precisely finds such pretension "convincing" anyhow?
Now, if "like" God, you brought-in a larger-realer "world of discourse" (occasionally?) from the "outside", where you supposedly reside (?), that might be interesting. But, is it convincing? Hardly.
See? His world of discourse, His island of chat, speaks of an unthinkably deep-past, in which our present-day was called-forth, or decreed. That field of expertise, posits an incomprehensible union of Almighty-with. . . man, the-creation? "There", we we "find" Him; "up" of reality, oddly(?) accessing the real, at it's "base"? That world, that "Kingdom", posits a net sweeping across history (and so, our world too!) to there-by gather in a "new-race". Thereby, "The Man" proposes, what amounts to a "one-ended rope", the True Transcendental!
Think on that. Which world of discourse proposes anything even a bit like a one-ended extension cord? In finding that one, we begin in this world, and "trace it up" finding no other end! How very deeply weird a cord, eh? Moreover, we are not being "glib" about such a world, we don't really do any "finding" on our own, but are being "dragged in", by that very cord!
Over in the world of music, our (small) "life-song" is going on, day by day. In it, we begin to harmonize somewhat with the Larger, Realer "pattern-song" of life (Mr. Life to you). The tone of that discussion is already set, and we are to chime-in with hearty Yowsahs and Amens here and there? That is, we are not mastering said world of discourse . . . it's (He, actually) mastering us! View then, the difference between merely describing wave-function, compared to riding a 20 footer right through the tube! One set's you-personally as yet another mere expert, and the real one is sweeping us all in?
The real world of discourse, is bigger-than (always!) our abilities (or not) to talk the talk. That world, among other things, teaches us to talk right!
Our ethic then, is a glad amazement at The True-Trans One, and joy at the noticing in us, that the King of the Real would-care (at all) to come, to teach, to welcome such as us! We, the thankful, at the big switcheroo, He becomes the ugly, we the winsome, and in that finding, a new-found confidence that His promise stands! The pattern of life, is placed upon us. And so, we are finding "in" it; a big welcome home son! A blown-kiss, a big hug, mom's dinner call. . . and more! Much much more. . .
Note: This thing was a mess, junk syntax, horrendous punctuation, etc., and a few glitches otherwise "propelled" me to repair the thing. So, I lied, when I promised not to "fix" them? Deal with it.
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