Thursday, September 25, 2014

Tiny Garden Experiment -- The Final Report


Way back in March I began a tiny garden experiment after watching a documentary called Food Inc. I was literally horrified to see the state of industrial food production here in the United States and took the advice of the producers when they suggested we should all begin to break away from monster that apathy, corporate greed, and consumer convenience created. Hey, I know it's tiny but the title of this post should explain everything.

 As the picture clearly shows it consisted of a small prefabricated raised bed, and garden soil bought at the local mega-hardware. Not shown is the thick plastic tarp separating the clean garden soil from the possibly contaminated soil in my yard. The reason I did that is because if the previous occupants of the house I live are anything like the other soulless pod people of the neighborhood, my backyard is probably awash in artificial lawn fertilizers and pesticides. Again the whole point is to try and eat a little healthier and if my garden plants soaked up all the crap in the soil because the former occupant loved his living green carpet I might as well just continue buying the stuff from the local grocery store.

Initially I planted lettuce seeds directly into the soil, some broccoli plants and one cherry tomato plant bought from the hardware store. The lettuce was a huge success, to the point I began growing fur and developing longer ears. The broccoli plants went straight to seed and had to be pulled. The biggest, and strangest failure, was the cherry tomato plant that while never actually dying refused to grow. A few months later, I bought another tomato plant, this time the Roma variety, and while it grew it has been a partial failure since I have only been able to harvest about three tomatoes from it. I'm not exactly sure what happened or what I did that might have screwed up something as simple as tomato plants when the lettuce and other items did so well.

Another huge success are my pepper plants, they are even now still producing. They have been used in things like homemade salads, omelets, and fajitas. These too were store bought plants and yes, it is safe to say they have more than paid for themselves. A few months after the garden was started my wife planted some basil and parsley which did great for a while, until one of our dogs decided to dig them up.

   
A surprising success is my one okra plant that I bought on a whim.We never exactly had enough to fry up a "mess of okra" as my grandmother would say but we did add it to the omelets and fajitas for a rather curious taste.



The biggest and utter failure of this experiment was the seed starter kit. My wife and I bought the kit off Amazon and while the instructions seemed idiot-proof, out of the fifty small sections where a seed was supposed to be planted none of them germinated. I don't blame the kit or the soil, I probably screwed up with the amount of water I used or the location I kept the seed bed. I have this half-assed idea of trying hydroponics during the fall and winter months since I already had a grow light--from one of my wife's projects a few years back--along with plans on my computer.

What is certain is that we are going to buy another raised bed for the coming spring. We're going to move the location of the garden over next the shed since it will provide a great deal more light during the day except for the late afternoon. All things considered, I'd have call the garden an overall success even though the tomatoes and the seed starter kit were total crash and burn failures. While I didn't make a dent in the fight against agribusiness monsters I had fun.              

Monday, September 22, 2014

Send in the Zombies


 Too late, they're already here.

A few days ago one of my buddies, a guy named Marty, asked me if I was eager to see the new season of “The Walking Dead” zombie apocalypse series. For the first couple of seasons of The Walking Dead both Marty and I would examine every episode in detail as the characters struggled to survive both the zombies and the surviving humans who were often far more dangerous. After the conclusion of the third season though, I realized that I had lost nearly all interest in the show. Marty and I did continue to talk during and after the third season but, quite frankly, I was just trying to be sociable.



Part of the problem was the show itself, while the whole point was to explore how the characters would react and adapt to the end of the world, to me the episodes seemed to just be rewrites of the same nightmarish situation. Generally speaking, every episode would have the main characters fleeing a zombie horde while dealing with treachery from within their group or an external threat from another. Yeah, there lots of room to maneuver in such a fictional environment but, speaking strictly for myself, I need something that suggests the characters will do more than just narrowly survive each episode. If I invest time and emotion in fictional characters I need to see some chance that they will eventually reach an endgame in their struggles, whether that be tragic or happy.



The other reason I stopped watching “The Walking Dead” had to do with the general situation of the world. While I can deal with the idea that zombies symbolize mindless American consumers who will literally trample each other in an insane rush to save a few bucks on mass produced crap I have difficult time when the level of anarchy in the real world begins to rival that of the show.



Honestly, I don't know which is more terrifying and dangerous. Hordes of undead zombies looking to eat the flesh of the living or religious fanatics who believe their path to eternal paradise requires the death of anyone who believes something different. Officially, I'm agnostic and find religious matters incredibly tiresome since most of the people running around claiming a direct link to the Almighty have a horrible track record when it comes showing compassion and love to their fellow humans. In other words, if all faiths preach peace and understanding why aren't religious extremists the most peaceful? Yes, I am generally talking about the insanity of the ISIS movement. But I would be hypocritical if I did not mention American Christians screaming at buses loaded with children from Central American fleeing poverty and murderous gangs. The propaganda coming from American religious conservatives about how these children are invaders intent on talking over the United States defies even the most basic tenets of commonsense and reason.



Another aspect of modern life that seems like a bit of The Walking Dead spilling over into real life is seeing adults walking around American cities and towns with assault rifles. It would actually be a little funny if those people weren't deadly serious in their belief that they only feel safe in the United States carrying a weapons specifically designed for a high rate of fire and to more shred human tissue than kill.



The final thing that killed all my interest in zombies and most other end of the world scenarios is the Ebola plague ravaging west Africa even now. The last thing I want to do is seem like Chicken Little running around screaming about the sky falling but that is one nasty virus. I've read some decent news reports that scientists have determined the Ebola virus is evolving almost in real time. These reports suggest that this rapid evolution could mean the virus becomes less lethal, which would be a good thing, or easier to pass around like catching the common cold from someone's sneezing in a crowded room.



So I will happily be skipping The Walking Dead this season. Through religious inspired stupidity and civilians harboring a deluded dependence on military weapons fearful of an evil boogeyman lurking in the shadows, many seem to be wishing for some apocalypse. I have better things to do, plus we real-life humans don't seem to be much better than television zombies hungering for the flesh of the living.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

In Praise of the Eco-Pirate

"I think the problem is that we don't really understand what we are. In essence we're just a conceited, naked ape. But in our minds we're some sort of "divine legend", and we see ourselves as some sort of god. That we can walk around the earth deciding who will live and who will die and what will be destroyed and what will be saved. But the fact is we're just a bunch of primates out of control."
Paul Watson


For reasons that are difficult to define at best, I have lacked just about all motivation to write anything whether it be my usual crappy and derivative fiction or some barely coherent political rant. This all consuming lethargy extends even to getting stuff done around the house or yard. Okay, that is nothing unusual for me, I find neither activity existentially redeeming. Nonetheless, I seem to be pushing the envelope on suburban slackerism with the domestic chores I am purposely and contemptuously ignoring .



There are a few plausible reasons for my condition. The first being the time of the year. The entire month of August and most of September in South Carolina are ungodly in their combination of excessive humidity and high temperatures. You spend anytime outdoors and you can feel those twin leeches sucking the life out of you. At least from the latter half of September cooler weather will begin to be the general rule. The second reason is that work is kicking my ass, I come home and pretty much collapse on the couch after eating breakfast. Not a pretty existence, but some have it far worse. The third possible reason is that when I watch the news, in an effort to be an informed citizen, it is a smorgasbord of potential and building global disasters.



Unfortunately unlike the first two there is no easy way come to grips with depressing nature of global affairs. I could ignore the news, but that would be push me closer to the, and I know this is a cruel opinion, the mindless masses who wander around these days and do stupid things like vote Republican. As a bit of backhanded olive branch to these people caught up in a semi-Orwellian bliss I will say that the major news outlets make it hard to stay informed. The world is on extremely shaky ground these days and they spend considerable time on stories best left to the likes of Entertainment Tonight, the National Enquirer or even worse, National Review magazine.



With my ubiquitous cultural and political insult out of the way I will say that during my morning downtime after I get off work and before I go to bed I have been indulging in an old habit of watching documentaries on Netflix. This is how I got a chance to see “Eco-Pirate: The Story of Paul Watson.”



I first heard of Paul Watson when the Animal Planet cable network aired the show “Whale Wars.” Captain Watson and the group he founded, Sea Shepard Conversation Society, have played hell with whaling ships, both illegal and those flying national flags for decades. When I first ran across the Whale Wars series I was instantly sympathetic to their cause even though Captain Watson didn't seem to have all the screws in his head properly tightened. In fact, and pardon another abused reference, but he often seemed like some alternate reality version of the insane Captain Ahab, just this time out to save the whales instead in killing them.



Before anyone explodes let me come out and say that after seeing Eco-Pirate I realize I had grossly misjudged Captain Watson. Eco-Pirate is both a biography of Captain Watson and a detailed explanation of the reasons why conservation groups like Greenpeace are woefully inadequate in facing the monstrous destruction of the oceans and the animals, including humans, that depend on it.



What really struck me hard was the story Captain Watson related during a failed attempt to prevent a Soviet whaling ship from harpooning a sperm whale back in the 1970's. Paraphrasing, Watson related how he was able to bring his small rubber boat right next the dying mammal. With the water turned red with blood, Watson looked into the cetacean's eye and somehow knew the creature understood that his group was trying to save it. Watson then went to relate how he realized that the Soviets were killing these remarkable and beautiful creatures for their oil that would be used as lubrication in nuclear missiles, which of course, would allow human to sterilize the planet. He said then that it was at the moment he knew humans were insane. Before anyone accuses me of overt favoritism, Eco-Pirate does let you know that Captain Watson is human with all the failings associated with that condition.



Despite his all to normal warts, Watson is just the shock to the dominate global system --capitalism-- of unrestrained exploitation of the oceans this planet needs. Over the years I have seen how “Free Market Capitalism” can excuse all manner of crimes and destruction. For just a couple of quick examples, I clearly remember a blowhard on one of the American business news channel lamenting how polluting water could be justified as long as there were jobs and money involved. Everyone should also remember how back in 2007-2008 insane banking practices nearly sent the country and the world into another great depression. Now did these irresponsible bankers and investment types ever go to jail? The only time I can recall a capitalist ever going to prison was Bernie Madoff who made the mistake cheating far too many of his own kind. On a side note, throw in ever present excuse of nationalism and religious beliefs and you pretty much have set the human race on a course to extinction.



Getting back on topic, can Captain Paul Watson be an egotistical blowhard with hints of a latent messianic complex? Yeah, but being completely honest, in the face of lying politicians and business types who I find far more similar to Nazi or religious cult types I would say we need at least a thousand more people just like Paul Watson who clearly care more about the planet than power or making a buck. In fact ten-thousand would be a far more ideal number. If you have the chance try and watch, Eco-Pirate: The Story of Paul Watson. 

 "We're now in the midst of a 3rd World War, but this time the enemy is ourselves, and the objective is to save the planet FROM ourselves. There's no hope for masses of humanity to do anything — they never have, they never will. All social change comes from the passion and intervention of individuals or small groups of individuals. Slavery wasn't ended by any government or any institution. Women got the right to vote not because of any government. The civil rights movement, the same thing. India with Mahatma Gandhi, South Africa with Nelson Mandela. Again, it's always individuals. You need those individuals with the passion and the energy to get involved. In fact, I don't know of any government or any institutions that are doing anything to solve any of these problems. All over the world, all I am seeing is individuals and non-government organizations that are passionately involved in protecting ecosystems and species, and that's where I see some optimism. That's where I see results are happening."
Paul Watson

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Canine Territorial Incursions





Being that I normally work nights, I don't get to sleep with my wife during the workweek. It is only on Friday and Saturday nights that I am able to sleep like a normal person beside my wife. This has not hurt our relationship, we're both adults and realize we have to do it to keep the family financially afloat in these strange and difficult times. That being said, my absence has caused some strain with the two canine members of the family.

See my spouse, Dragonwife, lets the two dogs sleep with her during the week. Once again this isn't a problem except on the weekend when I rightfully reclaim my spot in our king's sized bed. Ideally, this shouldn't be an issue since the two dogs are rather small. However, anyone who lets their dogs sleep with them knows that just isn't the case.

With my sleeping habits screwed sixteen ways to Sunday because of my job I tend to call it quits early on Friday nights. When I write early I generally mean around nine o'clock, which would send shivers of indignation down the spine of my younger self. I have always been a bit of a night owl with the strange alternating tendency of getting up early in the morning. I guess I have to take this as evidence that my advancing age has exceeded my bodily rhythms. My wife and the dogs stay up a little later, so I am asleep when they finally come to bed. The newest dog, Dixie, immediately goes under the covers and takes a position at the foot between my wife and I. The other dog, Sparky, scoots close to me for a few hours before moving over to sleep next my wife.

Given the size of the bed there is room enough for everyone to be comfortable. The problem comes when I have to go to the bathroom or get some water during the night. As soon as I get up, the dogs decided to redraw the territorial map leaving me without any space. I then have the options of either retreating to the sofa or forcefully carving out some space. Needless to say, the easiest option is just to give up and go to the couch. After dealing with this situation for years, I finally decided to take a picture of this strange situation after discovering the cartoon above. I find a great deal of comfort knowing that apparently I am not the only one dealing with such a scenario. Below is a picture taken last Sunday morning, please note I had to get special clearance from Dragonwife because she had long forbid me from publishing any photographs of her on the internet.
  

Friday, August 29, 2014

An American on Rhea-- Part Three



 (Author's note: This little experiment has been going on for a few months now. If interested here is Part One and Part Two.)

Someone back in the twentieth century once said that there were two absolutes in the universe, the first being death and the other taxes. While still relatively ignorant of the strange but technologically super advanced era I find myself now after spending thirty-three hundred years in suspended animation I know enough now to realize those absolutes had changed.

With sentient personalities existing in what I would call cyberspace, tiny memory cubes that can store the experiences and thoughts of an entire human lifetime, and grown on demand custom human bodies those cubes can be downloaded into death isn't the certainty it was back in my time. As far as the concept of taxes goes, I still had no real idea how the Earthers or the Rheans, or the rest of the settled solar system for that matter, fund the working of their civilizations because capitalism, except in a mild form is an extremely bad word.

What actually appeared to be a surprising universal absolute are courtrooms. The one I found myself in after the ship carrying Doa Criss arrived more of less looked just like every other one I had ever seen. It was clad in a sterile looking white but at the front of the room was a raised and extended podium where the seven member tribune was going to hear the case against me. The one visible inconsistency being they were all dressed in white robes. Directly in front of them were the two desks situated beside each other where the defendant, me, and the accuser, this Doa Criss, would sit. The only thing missing was the jury box, but that was where the tribunes came back into play because they were also serving that part as well.

Anni Missor, my only friend and a professor of ancient history at one of Rhea's universities assured me that civics classes were taken quite seriously on her moon and that I was going to get a fair trial. Anni and I had grown rather close since my arrival I was taking her word on the subject but I couldn't help but think back to my won high school years where I literally slept through my half-semester civics course. Even my teacher for that class, a tired man who had long given up on a flawed system, barely seemed awake himself.

Anni informed me, in an offhand manner, that historians had long agreed that sheer ignorance on the workings of government and the duties required by citizens were one of the elements that lead to the downfall of the United States and the establishment of the North American Corporate Authority, which then caused the creation of similar corporate states all across Earth. However, once all the corporate states were overthrown the newly reestablished nations made damn sure every citizen understood the working of government and the concept of the responsible citizen and his or her duty to the common good.

Taking everything into consideration I wasn't that worried, although there was the small matter that I had no legal representation. But Anni told me that on Rhea it was a given that every citizen had the ability to defend themselves or at least access one of the free artificial intelligence legal programs that would act in their behalf. The fact that expert legal consul was now just a routine piece of software and totally free sent me into a fit of hysterical laughter to the point Anni was worried I lost my mind. I had to figure that if there was some form of afterlife, still curiously enough and open question, all the hundreds of millions of attorneys that had ever lived and gotten rich for knowing how to play the legal system like some street prostitute were now writhing in eternal agony.

We were thirty minutes passed the time the hearing was supposed to start when Doa Criss finally showed up. I must admit I really didn't truly appreciate the nature of her war hero status until she walked in the room and the seventy to eighty people sitting in the audience at the rear of the room fell silent.

At first glance she looked familiar, almost like when you see someone and think you know them. I figured the possibility existed that she could have been a descendant of mine or someone else I knew but that was all. The fact that this Doa Criss answered my stare with one of her own back only unnerved be even more. Her appearance was of a normal Caucasian Earther with average height and build, along with long blonde hair, but she walked with a grace in the low gravity of Rhea that betrayed the fact it had probably been a long time since she set foot on the home planet. I did find a small amount of humor in the situation because she was wearing a brightly colored, skin tight one piece garment that looked like something from an early twenty-first century science fiction movie.

The second Doa sat down the chief tribune tapped a silver ball sitting on the podium in front of her with what looked to be a hammer, “This hearing will now come to order,” the chief tribune said, “everyone here is under oath to tell the complete truth and any deviation will be punished accordingly. Citizen Criss, I must admonish you for your tardiness, I am uncertain how things are ran on Triton but on Rhea our justice system does not look kindly on needless delays.”

“I apologize,” Doa replied to the Chief Tribune, “but new information has come to my attention that clears Citizen Thomas Morgan.”

This not only caused a stir with all seven tribunes but myself as well. In fact I figured my translator earpiece had begun to malfunction.”What do you mean clears Citizen Morgan?” The Chief Tribune asked. “It was your esteemed reputation as a war hero and insistence that the Earth Collective had in fact missed incriminating information about Thomas Morgan that lead us to confine him.”

Doa Criss casually took several seconds to think before answering by running her fingers through her blonde hair in manner that once again seemed weirdly familiar to me. “I'll have to blame the deficiencies and limitations of radio communication Tribune. I didn't receive all the information I asked for from the archives on Europa until a few hours ago. The fact remains, that Thomas Morgan was already in deep suspension when the North American Corporate Authority was formed. I have downloaded all relevant files clearing Citizen Morgan into the central Tribunal database.”

The Tribunes, clearly disturbed, all began accessing the new information through their preferred means of interfacing with the Rhean version of what I grew up to call the internet. It only took a few seconds when the Chief Tribune began to raise the small silver hammer with a clear intention of striking the metal ball in front of him.

Doa Criss, seeing this as well, jumped up from her chair. “Before the Tribunes dismiss these proceedings I beg that I have a private meeting with Citizen Morgan after the closing. I do have some information he will find quite astonishing.” She said looking over in my direction with a smile that actually frightened me to the core of my soul.

The Chief Tribune, who clearly had a similar look to countless judges from my time wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of the tiresome courtroom on onto a golf course or bar looked over in my direction. “Does Citizen Morgan object to meeting with Citizen Criss in the conference room?”

“No Tribune,” I answered back actually wondering what the equivalent here on Rhea was to the golf courses or bars were back on Earth in my time.

“Well now,” the Chief Tribune said while smiling, “I'm actually happy we can end this hearing on such good terms.” He then struck the metal ball on the table in front of him with the hammer and was out of the room in just a few seconds.

It was then that I looked over at Anni, who had been sitting beside me the entire time. Standing there in the courtroom, it was the weirdest time to come to an epiphany concerning the nature of being human. But during our long conversations back in the prison complex I learned from her that the normal yellow skin complexion and ultra bright blue eyes of Rheans came from direct genetic manipulation by the early colonists to adapt to living so far away from the sun. She explained that it took several centuries to construct the elaborate domes that now provided ample light for all living things on Rhea and that by the time they had her people had come to regard the adaption as part of their growing culture.

It made sense even though I was just a flawed American lost in time carrying with me all the ingrained baggage and stupid assumptions of my nationality when it came to matters of skin pigmentation. Back in the twenty-first century as much as Americans liked to delude themselves that they had moved beyond something as ignorant as judging the character of a person because of their skin color we all still played by some unspoken but yet insane rule of living our lives and dealing with each other based on it. Yes, I admit back before I went into suspended animation I based many of my business and personal decisions on appearance with skin color being one of the primary factors.

But as I stood there looking at Anni, I was somehow finally able to see beyond all that. Here I was now living in an era where my unrestrained capitalist history made me no better than a World War Two Nazi but yet this woman was able to see beyond that. What I saw in her alien but completely human face with concern and maybe a little fear.

“What's wrong?” I asked Anni.

She tried to smile but I knew it was just a brave effort. “Doa is from your time Thomas Morgan,” she said, “while considered a hero for her efforts at ending the corporate tyranny on Earth. I fear for you at what news she might bring from the past.”

****

The conference room was as unremarkable and ordinary as the courtroom with the one exception being the large window facing the surface of Rhea. Given our location all I could see from the window was a small portion of Saturn's rings but the sight was breathtaking. The conference table was large but there was enough space left in the room for a several large and comfortable chairs in one section.

Anni and I were sitting together when Doa Criss finally entered the room. She approached us with a confidence that seemed to radiate from her body like heat. “Well,” she said, “mystics use to talk about how the universe had a sense of humor and I now have to agree.”

As she approached, I instinctively stood and offered out my hand in greetings. “I sorry Citizen Criss,” I said, “but you've got me at a huge disadvantage.”

“Come now Tommy,” she said in American English with a coy smile enjoying my utter surprise, “little things like three millenniums and me inhabiting a new body shouldn't make us strangers, we were after all married once upon a time.”

Maybe it was the tone of her voice combined with the familiar body language but her suddenly identity hit me like a nuclear bomb. “Olivia!, “ I said realizing that somehow I was standing in front of the being that was once my second wife.

***

Back in the twenty-first century Americans of all social classes jealously clung to the accepted national myth that anyone in the land of the free and the home of the brave could be a success. While there were degrees of success, along with different visions of what it actually was, in truth unless a person was born into a family with certain advantages like money or influence most people would be condemned to spend out their lives at about the same place they were born or worse.

Oh there were exceptions, and luck had a lot to do with it along with above average intelligence or at least the possession of a certain feral guile to do what had to be done, no matter the moral or ethical cost. In truth, the latter was how I made my money, I was born into a working class family whose only readily available avenue to escape the illusion of the lower middle class lifestyle financed by revolving credit was by enlisting in the military. So I joined the army and on a whim signed up for all the college assistance offered.

Somehow I excelled in my business courses once I finished my enlistment but that in itself wouldn't have gotten much beyond being a department store manager. No, what shot me into the upper realms of success and power was a chance encounter at a small cafe just off campus with an investment manager who had given a recent guest lecture in one of my classes.

I introduced myself and told him I enjoyed his lecture, from then on took kind of bizarre interest in me and became my mentor. This was no example of human compassion, he made it clear that he was strictly conducting an experiment seeing as to whether anyone in the lower classes could be raised up, In fact after graduation I began working for him as his assistant and he did everything possible to make my life hell.

I learned a lot from the old bastard before I got tired of his shit and sold him out to the feds for his creative bookkeeping. The first being that the financial investment racket was one of the greatest scams in human history. In hindsight it was now clear to me that the entire investment management and banking industry had convinced most everyone that if you put a couple of dollars in a dark room they would begin to multiple like rabbits. In truth real capitalism had died sometime in the last years of the twentieth century and was replaced with a sick scheme that was both an elaborate shell game of deception and outright gambling.

The lady who become my second wife, Olivia Carter, entered my life around the time I had earned my first hundred million. She was a geneticist who wanted to start a company to capitalize on her breakthrough in gene therapy. At that time, we were a match made in heaven. We were both incredibly ambitious and recognized that together we could achieve our respective goals. After dumping both of our respective mates at that time we married and began working on making her company a major player. A few short years later we were billionaires and had grown tired of each other. We actually parted ways as the best of friends, not because of some residual affection, no nothing as simple as that, its just when sums of money equal to the worth of small countries are involved no on ever really burns a possible useful bridge. All that flashed through my head in the space of a couple of seconds as I looked at this Doa Criss/Olivia Carter resulting in me asking a most obvious question.

“Wait a damn minute Olivia,” I said, “you were just as much a leech on the rest of humanity as I, how in the hell did you become a hero to these people.?”

Doa/Olivia seemed to enjoy my confusion, “Poor Tommy, you never could truly grasp the big picture could you, but then of course you went into suspension before the world went to total shit. See, some of us capitalists actually understood the nature of how our societies were collapsing under the weight of the new privileged aristocracy. The trouble was that the vast majority of the poor somehow bought the idea some among our affluent group was selling that we had their best interests at heart and that if the rich had no restrictions and oversight our bubbling wealth would flow down to them.”

Doa/Olivia went on to explain that she and a very small band capitalists like her did their best to oppose the encroachment of corporate fascism. But the mixture of a tiny few with hundreds of billions to spend on propaganda and a vast and nearly illiterate underclass caught up in a combination of religious and societal fervor was just too powerful in the end. When the corporate elites finally just swept away the empty and decayed husks of the United States and Canada and formed the North American Corporate Authority she went underground and helped organize the resistance.

“Oh Tommy,” Doa/Olivia said a few hours later as Anni and I listened to her recounting the worst years of the Corporate War. “That last bimbo you married and her husband were especially good at leading those Texas fanatics. The corporate elites had always liked Michael Wilson and made sure when Texas broke up into four different states that he won one of the senate seats in the newly formed State of Panhandle. When the Authority was established and Texas was reformed, the Corporate Board in Washington liked how he lead the ground forces that squashed all the riots and ethnically cleansed southern Texas . They eventually made Michael a general in the Corporate Authority Army and had him lead the invasion of Mexico to stop all that nasty terrorism from crossing the border. That forth wife of yours, Debbie, flushed with power, played the loving and supportive spouse of General Wilson all the way down to Lima, Peru. The resistance eventually killed the two in their mansion outside of Bogota but not before close to three million Central and South Americans had died. It would have been more if the Brazilians hadn't been able to stop them from going any further south.”

Doa/Olivia explained that despite all the efforts of the Resistance, corporate states came into existence all over Earth. The governments of Russia, China, Korea, Argentina all fell in the space of two years with several others like Australia, Indonesia, and England soon following. All told, at the height of Corporate fascism fifty-six nation was under its control. What turned the tide was in part the finally realization by the poor that they would never receive any of the benefits from what the Elites called unrestricted capitalism and libertarian freedoms.

After the war Doa/Olivia played a major part in the reestablishing of the United States. As the years went on she seemed to have a hand in everything from pursuing war criminals to helping establish the planetary government. When the technology was perfected, she was one of the first to have her memories incorporated into a crystal archive because of her age. It was fascinating to hear her describe the feeling when her memory crystal was activated and she became a sentient personality living in an ethereal cyberspace wonderland viewing the real world much the same way people in the twentieth and twenty-first century watched television.

Doa/Olivia didn't dwell on why she had a new body created and her personality downloaded into it. She only explained that for physiological reasons it was considered best for those newly returned to the living that they assume a new identity.

“So Olivia,” I said using her original name, “what was the purpose of accusing me of being a war criminal, even after the Earth Collective had cleared me of any association with the Corporate Authority?”

Doa/Olivia at first seemed not to have an answer for my question. That lead me to think for a few seconds that maybe she harbored some sort of animosity towards me. “Sweetie,” she said in her original Georgia accent, “You've got to understand what it was like for me to hear that none other than one of my ex-husbands from the twenty-first century was pulled out of one of those primitive suspended animation chambers. One of the unforeseen issues with people like me is that no matter how well we are integrated with civilization and our new identities, we all long for some connection with our past lives.”

Her explanation made about as much sense as everything else I had encountered in this era. We continued to talk for a few more hours but it was clear our reunion was soon to end. Doa had family back on Triton and her ship was scheduled depart for Titan before heading back out to the farthest parts of the solar system.

Anni had never left my side during my unexpected and unlikely encounter with my past but had been almost totally quiet the entire time. So I was surprised in a different way when Doa looked over at her and asked, “Professor Missor, excuse my rudest but am I wrong to assume that your synod has pledged you to Tommy?”

“Yes,” she said rather sheepishly while gripping my left arm tightly, “but I hadn't as of yet explained anything of the ceremony to him.”

A look of shock and dismay appeared on Doa's face. “I am so sorry, for everything,” she said to Anni. “I hope I haven't disturbed the time table.”

“No,” Anni replied, “the starship that will take Thomas Morgan away will not be here for at least three years. I had hoped to spend much of that time getting him use to what will be required of him.”

Doa looked over at me and suddenly reached out for a hug, “Goodbye Tommy, I doubt we will ever see each other again so let me give you one vital piece of advice before I go, whatever you do don't screw this up. The Rheans are depending on you to fulfill a role I honestly don't think you will understand, just know it is the only reason you are alive now and not still deep underground on Earth stuck in amber.” With that she turned and walked out of the conference room leaving me with a lot of questions.

Sunday, August 17, 2014

College Life



Six months after the birth of our son, Darth Spoilboy, my wife and I were playing with him on the floor of our den. It was early morning with various toys scattered about along with a couple of sippy cups that somehow could appear out of no where and then disappear again. What I remember most though was a casual but off the wall comment my wife made at the time.

Well,” she said, “it's been six months and we haven't killed him yet.” Nuance being the key here what she meant was that as brand new and totally inexperienced parents neither of us had done anything stupid yet that could have harmed our son. I, of course, agreed especially since a couple of weeks before that I had seen a new dad actually drop his baby. I just happened to be looking in the right direction when this person placed his child into one of those baby carriers without properly securing him. When the father picked up the carrier the child slipped out and plopped on the grass an overly large and floppy doll.

Luckily, that baby was fine, although I think the dad probably came close to having a heart attack once he realized what happened. The incident scared me as well to the point I spent years making sure neither of my children ever had to suffer through a similar event because of some careless action on my part. It's has been eighteen years since then but I have now reached a point where I can't look after my oldest child.

Yesterday we loaded up his car and mine and along with Dragonwife and Darth Wiggles we followed him up to Clemson University to help him set up his new residence in one of the dorms. It was a simple chore compared to some of the other parents I saw there. They seemed to have brought along everything from home including the kitchen sink for their kids.

As we drove away leaving Spoilboy to begin his own life I couldn't help but remember that father who didn't have the baby carrier secured correctly for his child. All I can hope is that my wife and I have prepared him fully for this new phase in his life.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Risky Games of Empire and Glory



(Author's notes: 1. As always excuse the typos. 2. If this rant bares any resemblance to reality you should be afraid, very afraid because I often feel I am simply nuts.)


Just a few short years after the demise of the Soviet Union I stumbled upon a magazine article with an uncharacteristically dark and dire view at that time of the coming decades. This article came out in the mid-1990's when the United States was awash in a soapy bath of pride and self-righteousness at being able to stand over the rotting corpse of its political and military enemy. Even among the other nations of the West the prevalent idea was that democracy and free enterprise had triumphed over Marxist-Leninism and that in time the whole world would fall in line with the winning team. In short, the general view among many was that we were seeing the “end of history.”

This troubling article I read, running absolutely opposite to the generally happy and optimistic view at that time, predicted not a world dominated by a benign and wise United States but a multipolar world filled with squabbling and dangerous nations all wanting their day as the global king of the mountain. However, with news like McDonald's opening its first fast food place in Moscow and the People's Republic of China going capitalistic faster than the fictional starship Enterprise can cross the distance between stars hardly anyone wanted to worry about possible wars.

Without a doubt the overly warm and fuzzy optimism of the post-Cold War, pre-Millennium era went straight to the proverbial dust bin of history after the 9/11 attacks. Well in truth, I've got to exempt all the proud and defiant Cold Warriors from that statement who were positively suicidal when it looked like world peace was breaking out all over the place. There was nothing more pitiful and more than slightly terrifying than hearing the intelligence briefing I got in my final days while in the active army from a newly minted Second Lieutenant who was convinced that crumbling of the Iron Curtain was an elaborate and clever deception. The arrival of a new and shadowy enemy was a godsend to those for whom peace and cooperation are bywords for stagnation and social decay.

Since then thing have gone from, and excuse the tired but awkwardly modified metaphor, from the fryer to the boiling cauldron of watery poop. Let's see where to begin, first and foremost I would be remiss if I did not mention the utter disaster of the Iraq War. If humanity survives for any length of time I am sure the Bush/Cheney Iraq War will go down in history as one of the stupidest strategic mistakes up there with the Athenian Expedition to Sicily during the Peloponnesian War.

While the American Army was not wiped out like the ancient Athenian force the combined deaths of Iraqi civilians and American military along with estimates of over a trillion dollars being spent on a war based on lies more than makes it an equal to that disastrous ancient Greek campaign. My main point being that the result of the war was not a free and democratic Iraq but a near complete destruction of the social and political fabric of not just that country but of the entire Middle East. Let's face the fact that Bush/Cheney twisted every piece of intelligence data in attempting to tie Saddam Hussein to 9/11 as well as create an illusion that he was some Arab version of Hitler just waiting for his chance plunge the world into war. In short, the Iraq War was a post-colonial conflict that flouted international laws and proper behavior to secure oil and a new section of the globe for the American Empire. Excuse me if I see the ghost of Thucydides shaking his head in disgust at the Iraq War while the one for Pericles looks a lot like Dick Cheney.

Since the nation of Iraq is an artificial construct merging three main groups who on the whole hate the others, disturbing this Frankenstein's Monster, even in the name of freedom, threatens a wider war that at least endangers hundreds of millions if not the entire planet. Of the three main Iraqi groups Sunni and Shiite hate each other, and the Kurds are just looking for a chance to declare independence. That these centuries-old religious and ethnic problems could drag Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Turkey into a regional war which in turn could pull in the nuclear armed big boys should give any rational diplomat plenty of sleepless nights.

Throw in the brutal fighting between the Israelis and Palestinians where the innocent are suffering far worse than the warmongering monsters on both sides makes the regional birthplace of the three monotheistic religions, who each proclaim peace and love is the best way, a farce far more surreal than any piece of fiction a talented writer could create. If the world was still the technologically primitive and sparsely populated place it was for the majority of human existence these conflicts could continue without endangering the rest of humanity but we don't live in that era. The modern world is based on a complicated and highly interconnected existence. Seemingly small things like nuclear and possible genetically engineered biological weapons employed by any of these ancient enemies could pile our neatly crafted twenty-first lifestyle on top of the ashes of the Soviet Union in the historical dustbin.

Part of problem to me involves how all through human history we seem to have based the rules of behavior between political entities on some overarching imperial power whether it be malicious or benign. You could go all the way back to Sargon ofAkkad to our era in the possibly waning days of Pax Americana but basing international behavior on some imperial power is losing proposition for everyone. All empires weaken and eventually fall, when that happens there is always a period of chaos where largely the innocent suffer as a new order is established. Yeah, the handover from Pax Britannia to Americana seems smooth until you think about how the United States didn't really assume global authority until after the Second World War with Britain financially bankrupt and war weary.

Global flash points do exist outside the tortured Middle East, in eastern Europe Vlad Putin is attempting to emulate Hitler's demand for lebensraum by slicing off pieces of surrounding countries. His latest adventure in Ukraine is uncomfortably close to Hitler's actions in Sudetenland back in the 1930's. This is after spending years imposing a new authoritarian regime that stifles over most forms of dissent. Frankly, I find the years where he allowed someone else to keep the presidential chair warm after his first two terms only to retake it for his current stint as leader of Russia hilarious. More petty dictators with delusions of omnipotence need to be as observant to the rules of protocol and decorum.

In areas off the coast of mainland China the People's Republic is intimidating its neighbors by claiming large areas of open ocean. This is mainly for oil and mineral exploration. China's fishing fleets, as well as many other nations, already strip the oceans clean trolling with nets that stretch up to ten to twenty miles long.

Please don't think I am directing my ire just at just nation-states. Multinational corporations flaunt national laws and avoid taxes at will by searching for the best place to, at best, temporarily call home. Most attempts by national governments to get these huge businesses to support the infrastructure that allows them to make profits far greater than some countries usually results in them whining about being abused and then running off to some other place that will not disturb all their job creation.

Truthfully, I not exactly sure at the point I am trying to make other than humans need a far better way to manage and regulate issues that cross all political and geographic lines. There is far too many of us alive now crowded together on a planet whose resources are nearly exhausted if not dangerously polluted. It depresses me to no end that many people, especially here in the United States, desperately cling to the mindset the Earth's resources and its ability to absorb our waster is limitless. For Americans this is an easy concept for us to believe since we are still on top of the international power structure. For example, the fact that drinkable water is damn near nonexistent in some places around the globe, while we play in our own backyard swimming pools, a hard idea to accept. Exceptions in the form of rational and globally aware people exist but they are outweighed by idiots who tend to blame poverty and famine on local ignorance, laziness, and bad government.

Personally I can't seem to escape the idea that nation-states are outdated forms of government for all the reasons I have listed above. Nation-states love achieving global imperial status while abhorring any type of perceived imperial weakness which usually sends every nutcase into a power-grabbing feeding frenzy.

Some believe this is a good thing, that losers in our constant battle for global dominance are incorporated into larger societies where the winner develops a more effective government to stay in power longer thus promoting peace and prosperity. Yeah, but once again, all empires eventually weaken and fall prompting another round of fighting. Add nuclear and possible biological weapons and now going for the global brass ring of empire now might mean human extinction if not a sterilized planet.

So there we have it, while I feel an effective world government is out of the question for the foreseeable future I cannot see how we can continue our current level of technological civilization without strengthening our current global organizations. The problem, of course, is that even the best and most enlightened countries would sooner die than give up sovereignty while most national populations still fear the “outsider” or “alien” on an instinctive level even though we are all Homo sapiens.

You might be thinking why in the hell do I give a damn? Well because I am a parent with children who I want to grow up healthy and strong with every chance to make the most of their lives. Stealing a line from an old television drama I have suffered through various verbal slings and arrows for my strange beliefs, often being called a witless wonder for my ideas. But maybe it the quality of wits that matter instead of the quantity because even I know that in our world unless basic human rights ultimately apply to everyone and we develop the ability to look beyond things like nationalism, religious beliefs, and ethnic hate there will be no safe place for your children or mine.