Friday, February 25, 2005

How the Universe Works!

An ambitious blog entry. But blogs are just forms of communication. Those who read this particular entry will already be somewhat preconditioned. What do I mean by that? Well since every signal is transmitted upon a particular frequency and wavelength, this particular entry also expresses with such. You may access it via the world wide web, but in truth the only ones who will access it must have a certain frequency relationship with the content. 99.99%+ of internet content goes unobserved by each web surfer who has a small number of regular sites they read and other types of sites that are similar upon which they stumble upon.

This material is comparable to post-doctorate studies material for folks who aren't truly just human. With that prerequisite even the hundreds of hits coming from Google for "No, Mr. Bush I expect you to lose" will not stumble upon or be reading this particular entry. It has an invisible frequency relationship barrier.

These barriers are good things. They keep the elevated mind-set from being immersed in violence and bloodshed or perusing the dark corners of the web and the world. In the seas certain creatures are compatible with certain pressures or depths. This determines the range they travel within. Humans, too, have a range of travel and despite all appearing similar are really as disparate as the common sand crab and the deep sea angler fish.




Some are cruising the deepest depths and others are in a stage where they are evolving out of the murky waters altogether. The readership of this piece are at that point where they are already in that transitional stage and can begin to grasp these advanced concepts.

Day to day living in the world requires sustenance. We need to breathe, eat and drink. Our bodies take this raw material and transform it into our various structures, including cells and tissues. Our minds, however, feed on an entirely different form of sustenance. Our minds are comprised of thought, experience and reaction. It is entirely possible to provide the body ample sustenance while starving the mind. For those who have hungry minds here is the first part of a blog-series on How the Universe Works!

Everything is energy. All matter, all things incomprehensibly large or small are composed of energy. The universe is, quite simply, energy. This energy has an infinite range of expression. It is infinite. It can express at inconceivably high frequencies and inconceivably low frequencies:



So in this infinite universe the various dimensions themselves are infinite, in other words they are sub-infinities of a greater infinity. Yep. I know, hard to conceive and visualize. The diagram above, if animated, would show those rings expanding infinitely with no end. Each ring would be infinitely expanding and yet it would still just be a tiny fraction of ALL the rings that are expanding. And we can't even show ALL the rings because they are infinite in number. However, now you should be able to get some sort of conceptual image of an expanding, infinite universe that also contains sub-infinities.

The universe is not static. Energy is constantly in motion. This motion means you must either move forward with these expanding rings of energy or find your self in lower and lower spectra. Yes, hells do exist. Many FAR worse than any religionists have yet been capable of conceiving. Likewise there are spectra that would be interpreted as heaven and again, there are spectra which are so advanced as to make most religions' "heavens" appear as if they were the foulest of hells.

Understanding energy and how it works will be the key to your future. To travel these infinite spectra and develop your own bandwidth so you can find yourself living in these more advanced configurations of energy will require a dedicated effort to personal progress. You must cease to see your life as a material construct, filled with the shallow desires of human culture and realize that you are an infinite being composed of energy. Your future will be determined by your ability to keep choosing the constructive course of action through each moment of your life. Every single moment! Every destructive action will be like an anchor that weighs you down and tries to sink you. Every constructive action will help build your consciousness, waveform by waveform, until these advanced spectra are your normal residence.

Yes, many humans have gone on to leave the atomic spectra behind. They have new bodies in worlds that oscillate in these higher spectra. Each spectra of energy has its own reality based upon its signal expression. Lower orders become ever more limited and higher orders are many times less limited. To a being from a higher adjoining spectra coming to earth and being born in a human anatomy would be like asking you to walk into a dark box and close the lid after you. The limited range of human thought, the sensory limitations of the human physiology would all feel quite constraining and uncomfortable. In your future, if you progress and find your new homes in these higher spectra, even the bright light of the sun will seem dark. This is because you, yourself will oscillate at frequencies which make starlight appear quite low.

We must remember that all these frequencies determine perception. Relativity is at work. What appears blindingly bright now, from one spectra, appears as dismally dark from another. Yes, from many perspectives the suns and the galaxies that give birth to them are like small, dark little tide pools in a vast sea of energy. These tide pools harbor small forms of life. Humanity is one of these forms.

Yet from other perspectives, the Earth and its human life appears to be a blinding thing filled with bright light and peopled with beings of great intellect and development. Again, here we see relativity at work.

Cosmologists hunt for a big bang where there was none. They are woefully ignorant of these vast and infinite energy spectra. There is only this continual expansion of sub-infinities in an even greater infinite sum of energy.

That's it for today. Today we just tried to conceptualize an infinite universe and your place within it. In the next entry we will discuss in greater detail just how you and your consciousness function.

Till then...

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

An Outlook for The 21st Century

It's behind the curtains peeking time again.

Today we'll take a quick peep at the US agenda for the world in the 21st century. To help illustrate the global situation I have asked the ElEcTrOgIrL animation team to come up with a world map that can be used as a quick-reference and for an easy overview. By the time this goes "to press" we'll see just how talented my new Japanese management team is.



(Click on map to see full size)

We can merge the many nuanced views and are left with three primary views of the world: hotspot, covert activity and economic threat. The scales of the squares indicates the current or 21st century potential for each of the categories.

Any questions? Nope? Good!

Sunday, February 20, 2005

Peggy Noonan's on the Stagecoach

Peggy Noonan has described aptly the frontierlands where blogs roam free. She said it warn't the wild west, so I set her straight (but don't tell her I did 'kay?)


Mornin' Ma'am,

Loved readin' your piece but you got one part wrong. It is the wild west out here. Suggestin' it's not is dangerous talk and bound ta get some fool MSM journalist hurt, like that careless feller Dan who ventured out from the big city.

My six shooter is loaded with verbiage, verbosity, vitriol, vanity, veracity and vituperation.

I'm a real loner. A bit of a wild card with a loose tongue and you wont find me in some church with fancy clothes listening to some fool preacher. But I' lead a respectable life and folks let me be. But since you're a lady of refinement I'll still take off my hat and lay down my jacket should you venture forth and visit this rough-hewn badlands where literary prostitutes offer their words on the cheap for just a drink and a mouse-click.

The drinks here are mixed with tarnation and sarsaparilla and served competently by a barman whose known by the initials, D.S.L.

I reckon' a lady such as yourself would do just fine out here in the west. I've seen some of the fancy adjectives you holster, awaiting some un-fortuitous fellow to make the mistake of crossing his eyes while looking at ya and using erroneous expletives or aimless alliteration.

Take care ma'am,

SDAI-Tech1

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Wetter or Wetter?

That title means more if one is bilingual.

It was an unusually stormy night in the west. The rain poured and poured and didn't let up all night in many places. The rock garden appears to be a moat and now there are many pools to choose from. On the plus side it is relieving the drought to varying degrees though largely our technology has not been set up here to take advantage of down-pours and the ample salt-free water they provide. Considering the southwest is a naturally arid desert you would think that such simple, fairly inexpensive, water catching facilities could be set up, but that is simply too intelligent. It is so much easier to charge people more for water, create laughable "water shortages" in a world which is covered mostly with water and make folks drink recycled toilet water like they do in Orange County, California. I never cease to be startled at such ignorance. Instead of progress moving ahead and making sure there is plentiful water for all, the people charged with procuring water seem stuck at the bureaucratic intelligence level. And what is that level of intelligence that is drawn to bureaucratic positions? Well, don't ask.

So countless thousands of tons of water are wasted with every good down pour.



A couple thousand of these built through out the southwest would save a lot of dollars "water crisis'" and "droughts" in the long haul and no one would have to drink recycled feces. But that's too simple isn't it? It's in Californians, Arizonians, Nevadans and New Mexicans best interests to "pool their resources" and start building these very simple facilities now. Feel free to go write your local politicians and tell them what you want. (Feel free to link to this blog or the image) "Toilet to tap" is reprehensible and could only be imagined by a bureaucrat or someone with an offal fetish and who wants to see folks die earlier. Don't let Orange County set the tone for the rest of the southwest. Let's not let ignorance be the standard bearer.

Sunday, February 13, 2005

First Again!

Thanks to all the readers who wrote in to thank me for getting the data about North Korea's nukes out before anyone else - 4 months prior to North Korea's announcement. That's what you get when you buy a behind the curtains tour here. Not just talk and commentary, but the sort of data you just can't get elsewhere.

So what are the talking heads not telling you? What does the US government know that you don't about NK? What sword of Damocles dangles over Kim Jong Il? What are two-termer President Bush's plans? What is harmonic regeneration and how does it help to shape history?

All this and much, much more in upcoming blog entries. Now go out to your yard, mow the lawn, wash the car and putter around the house. That's what Sundays are for in America.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Easy as PIE

(Some fiction for a slow blogging day. Till later...)

Easy as PIE


I am sweating heavily. I can't stand much more of this humiliation. This has become a very one-sided game. She has beaten me again!

She is just too good at tennis for me.

When I asked Allison if she wanted to meet me at the club, I expected her to refuse, as I know lately she had spent her Saturdays with a greasy venture capitalist who had made a bundle during the IPO scams. Had I known she would really accept my invitation, I would've asked her to meet me someplace where I wouldn't look like a damn fool. Tennis? What was I thinking of?

Whew! Thank god it's over.

"You let me win didn't you?" Allison says with a wheeze, "You just played good enough to keep me one point ahead!"

I smile at her while shaking my head in mock disagreement. Only my tired arms and sore legs will know how valiantly they tried this day. I walk with her to the showers and tell her I would meet her out front by the car. I watch her walk away in graceful strides that reminded me again of how much I really have missed her.

I can't stand these showers. There always seems to be a bunch of perverts hanging around. I make my way past the showers, throw on some deodorant and quickly put on my fresh clothes.

beeep.
beeep.

I wonder who would be calling my cell-phone on a Saturday.

"Hello, Tech1 here."

The voice on the other end is static ridden and hardly audible, "Tech1 the CEO needs you. It is a Blueboy takeover."

"Okay, I am on my way ASAP."

Only I know that the corporate lingo is jargon the National Security Agency had dreamed up to disguise our conversation from cellular eavesdroppers. It ticks me off. The first date I have with Allison in over a month and suddenly the President needs me to deal with another alien intrusion. "Blueboys." A not-so-clever name given to the aliens with a bluish cast to their skin. Dangerous beings though - very dangerous.

In 01' I was assigned to President Bush's special task force, P.I.E., to deal with alien intrusions within the sovereign air space of earth. They picked me because I had been aware of aliens since I was just a kid. The researchers call my abilities, "supra-sensory developments" but I feel perfectly normal. P.I.E. stands for Planetary Intrusion Experiment. I don't know why such a stupid acronym was given to it, but then again that's not my department.

"Allison..I really have had a great time, but there's a corporate takeover brewing and my boss called and needs my help."

It is not a lie, more of a half-truth.

"I really would like to do this again soon though!"

I bend over and kiss her on the lips before she knows what is happening. Her eyes light up and her unmistakable smile emerges upon her face, making her look like an angel. What a time to have to leave!

I jump out of her new red Chrysler 300 and into my baby blue 69' Cadillac convertible and wave good-bye. I hit the streets and I push down hard on the pedal and pull out the ashtray. Of course no longer is there an ashtray, but instead a special satellite relay and holograph generator.

The hologram of the director's face next to the steering wheel is somewhat distracting so I slow down and readjust my speed.

"Tech1? Director here. The Blueboy craft entered your sector at 8400 hours. We lost track of the descent but it's somewhere between the South Fashion Mall and route 141. We're counting on you Tech1 - Don't blow it!" The hologram disappears and the Director is out of my face.

All these malls always give me a headache. I remember when there used to be outdoor shopping malls. Now everything is covered and recycling dehumidified air that smells funny. I wish these Blueboys would learn to quit trying to control the minds of humans. At least soon the MFC grid will be on-line.

Mind Frequency Circuit technology will eventually save earth' interfering with the Blueboy thought control devices. It is still hard to believe that for over a thousand years all humans have had thoughts projected into their minds from an alien race intent upon keeping people contentedly ignorant of what life is all about. In trials with the MFC grid it seems like folks start thinking freely and think for many hours about what life is and how our consciousness works. In most trials people actually didn't watch television more than ten minutes a day, and then just for news-briefs.

I know some kids and adults watch TV for up to 8 hours a day - talk about Blueboy success stories!

I guess that's why they wanted me to be team leader of PIE. My mind has always been immune to external thought projection. I barely watched TV as a kid. I read and studied and thought. Free thoughts. Not escapist thoughts. I could ask what happened after one's body died and think about it freely. Supposedly, Blueboys would always force people to think about something else. According to the "Glowboys" we are immortal and reincarnate eternally into more advanced evolutionary bodies. Humans are near the bottom of this evolutionary scale. "Glowboys" now that is another great description used by PIE. You see there are these beings from somewhere out in the Pleiades star cluster who actually glow. Their atomic configuration supposedly has about 278 periodical elements instead of our 115. That's why they glow.

I actually met a Glowgirl once. Prettiest and most impressive woman I ever laid eyes upon. She was over six feet and three inches tall, actually an inch taller than me. She was in an underground research facility in San Diego. She was my first experience with telepathy. She spoke directly into my mind and it was warm and kind like someone giving you a mental caress.

It still unnerves me a little to know she heard my every thought, yet she was so non-judgmental it didn't matter. She briefed me about life after death, past lives and some of the negative alien races which exist within our galaxy. I had been chosen because of my familiarity with telepathy and those supra-sensory developments.

HONK!

"Get that pile of sh-t off the road!"

I watch as three kids in a late model Mustang convertible barrel beside me. Three arms with fingers extending heavenwards confront me. I see they are pointing out their IQ numbers.

I press a button upon the dashboard and the EMF field generator in the trunk became active. All I have to do is push another button and the Cadillac's whitewall tires lose contact with the highway. I am riding upon an electromagnetic field which is propelling the car away and into the air.

The kids scream start veering and slam their brakes. I hope they are all okay. I normally am not allowed to use this Glowboy technology unless it's night time and it won't shock people. But, hey, they wanted this car off the road, right?

Glowboys and glowgirls in their crafts can go faster than the speed of light. Some tech-stuff about 4th dimensional frequencies being beyond 3rd dimensional time and space. That's why they always lost our fastest planes. I remember in 94' I was flying an SR-71 Blackbird. Fastest mother we had back then, 3000+ mph! I was following two Glowboy craft and they just pulled away from me like I was parked. If it weren't for my sensory abilities I probably would have been scared to death. But I never sensed negativity from those Glowboy ships.

Anyway, this Caddy with an EMF generator has been limited to speeds of around 450 mph when it's off the ground. It would not have been able to do that without the structural reinforcements and the sheet metal panels having been replaced with titanium panels. A small force-field surrounds the interior here protecting me from the vacuum and heat 450mph, top down cruising creates. Best thing about these field generators is the instantaneous manner they can change direction. Our tech guys softened the steering for me since I am still buffeted and subjected to 3rd dimensional G-forces.

"Jesus Christ!"

A woman falls to her knees in shock. I probably should've landed further from the mall's parking lot, but I really don't have time to screw around with niceties. My scanner indicates the Blueboy is inside the mall...somewhere.

Judging from what I see, the Blueboy has been busy. Three brawls were going on inside the mall that I could spot. An old man was using the wall as a urinal. All the children are crying. A few young couples are fornicating on the floor. Freaky. What's creepier is that no one else seems to notice anything wrong. Damn Blueboys, their thought projection devices have more strength when they are broadcast from close range. Even I can feel the thoughts entering my head.

"I must get out now. Run! Leave. It will be my death if I remain!" I hear as if I am thinking it myself. The messages are sent upon my personal synaptic base rate frequency. The Blueboys hate it that I can recognize their little projected thoughts. Very few humans can. Glowfolks can distinguish externally generated thoughts quite easily. My recognition abilities lie somewhere between the two.

CLICK.

It is Glow time.

I have a MFC frequency jammer which will temporarily free anyone within fifty feet of me of Blueboy mind control. I never get used to the look of horror upon their ashen faces when they recognize what they are doing.

"Everybody leave the mall - NOW!"

"We know who you are Tech1! You can't save yourself, much less these puppets!" This time it came from over the central intercom system. Blueboy must be at the mall security office. Fortunately, I have been here with Allison before, when a purse snatcher had ripped off her purse we went to mall security to report it.

I start running.


I am sweating heavily - still. My games with Allison have left me more exhausted than I thought. Maybe I should lose several pounds, cause this running really tires me out.

"What the.."

An explosion rocks the security office only 50 yards from my position. I hope nobody was in there. As I run, something the Glowgirl said to me reverberated through my mind, "They are not truly evil, because they are not intelligent enough to recognize the negativity of their actions. To judge them is like condemning a small child for his ignorance. Be kind and warm to them, for they need love most of all. Their world is almost sterile of love and compassion."

It was hard to look at the rampant insanity which had taken place here and feel much except contempt for Blueboy. Yet, I know Glowgirl spoke truth and so I cleared my mind of any lower thought expressions such as hate or vengeance and instead oscillated my thoughts on pure love and warmth and kindness. The same kindness I had felt when the Glowgirl, Miasha, had spoken telepathically to me.

"Please come out my friend, I wont harm you. These things you have done are destructive in nature and are not intelligent. Hate is self-destructive. You only succeed in harming yourself" I try to project telepathically into the mind of the nearby Blueboy.

I wait. Tense moments pass.

I see the alien appear. About five feet four, the Blueboys are much shorter than Glowboys, yet were still two feet taller than the Greys. I can see emotion upon his face as though my thoughts had touched a part of him few had before. He drops the thought projection device to the floor and I walk over to him.

"Feel free to return to your ship and leave. I won't stop you."

The alien looks at me with an expression that seems like remorse. His hairless oblong shaped head was unusual in appearance and yet I knew it was normal for his race. His mind projected weaker telepathic thoughts into my head.

"You do not wish to dissect me or interrogate me?" he asks mentally.

"No. That is unintelligent. Harming or imprisoning beings is not the way we do things anymore, and certainly not the way I do things. You and your people have nothing to fear from the people of Earth."

Looking into his eyes was very strange. One doesn't realize that all humans have a certain look until one looks into the eyes of an alien. They also all share a certain look, most likely forged by the shared environment and experiences of their home world. I can feel his sadness and remorse for his actions as though by my telepathic communiqué he finally understood his actions were wrong. In many ways he appears to be a child, yet in other ways very old.

I knew I had better get him out of here before these people became more traumatized than they already were. I picked up the alien thought projecting device from the floor and opened a hidden pouch, lining my blazer. Placing the device in my pocket I ask where his spacecraft is and if he is alone.

"Am all alone yes. No others. Craft on surface of structure." He transmits into my mind. It's weird. It's in an alien language but my mind also converts it into words I comprehend. I try to adjust my conscious attunement more upon the mental frequency he is broadcasting upon, so as to ensure I am understanding correctly. I understand he means the mall's roof. We walk up the escalator and past throngs of people who are aghast at the sight of him. Some girls and women scream. People stared entranced by the alien that was before them. My superiors will be angry that I didn't 'tranq' the mall before going in. However, I know that garbage leaves respiratory ailments in it's wake, and so I don't use it.

I smile broadly at the children and adults nearby, hoping a broad smile can diffuse the shock of any situation. The children smile back, thinking perhaps it is somebody dressed in an alien costume. The adults know better. No costume could be that good. Some guy, who vaguely reminds me of Allison's venture capitalist friend, poorly cut suit and all, starts shouting.

"ALIEN!" he screams, "KILL IT!"

Fearing things will get nasty, I decide to pull out my badge.

"Please everyone stay calm. Everything is under control. I will use tranq-gas on anyone who interferes."

Using my best authoritarian stride, I walk between folks who stare while parting like the red sea did for Moses. I walk along until I finally see the roof access which had been left open. The screams of some people running in all directions was not the desired effect I had intended. Perhaps my superiors were right in their reasons for always using tranq-gas in public areas. I hope no one gets hurt. I really don't need more to burden my conscience. I know any alien reports will be discounted as a costumed prank and mass hysteria. Everyone knows real aliens don't exist, and they certainly don't appear in upscale shopping malls.

We climb out upon the roof and I fuse the grates lock from above with a small high potency laser. Another technical bit of wizardry learned from glowboy technology.

From the roof I can witness the pandemonium going on outside as people were rushing outside the mall shouting and yelling. Other folks are jumping into cars and driving recklessly away. Small mobs of folks are gathering in search of myself and this alien. I know this little episode is not going to look good on my resume'.

The alien ship is nearby. I can feel it's presence although I can not see it. It is oscillating at a frequency beyond that of our visual cortex's ability to discern. The alien stops and looks at me.

"You are not like the others, you do not fear and your thoughts are motivated by kindness. The others here are more primitive and seek my destruction. From you we have nothing to fear - from most of your kind we have very much to fear. Ten thousand years ago your world achieved great technocracy. Your race had mastered space travel and had attacked my home world bringing death to my people. After your civilization sunk beneath the waters, we have made efforts to slow down your technological progress. Your thoughts have shown me how we too have acted very wrongly. However, my world will not agree. It is a matter of global security."

"Well our world is learning. They have been indoctrinated and programmed by their surroundings to fear the unknown and unusual. They also destroy that which they do not understand. Your world's actions have not helped matters much. Many here still cling to the ignorant ranting of their ancestors. As you know - they could quite possibly be their own ancestors reincarnated."

The alien walks a few steps and disappears instantaneously. I know he has entered his craft. In another moment I know he and his craft are both gone and so I climb down a fire escape and run back to my Caddy. Like those around me I am in a hurry too.

I have to report on all that had occurred and explain how my tranq-gas canisters had malfunctioned... and most importantly, I have to set up a re-match with Allison.

Saturday, February 05, 2005

Meaningful Meanderings

Please pardon this tedious additional alliteration. Sundry sage postings perhaps require rhetorical restraint while writing.

Sorry about that. Well, not really. Having fun is a part and parcel of life. Doing what you enjoy is the key to this happiness. Happiness should not be measured by money, success or even hits to your blog, but should be measured by your ability to do the things you like to do. Many actors enjoy acting until they distort their love of the craft for the acclaim of the audience. Many writers and bloggers pervert their desire to share insight or thoughts with the quantity of those who read their writings. In this insidious process, their own opinions are morphed and molded into what they believe are more publicly consumable material. You will not find such morphing here. What you read here has very limited appeal. Some find this blog fascinating, some repellent. Some find it fascinatingly repellent. Many of the postings may seem incomprehensible. That's to be expected. This world is filled with a diverse spectra of human intellect and development.

If you are younger your interests likely gravitate towards hormonal and socially cued fields. It is almost mandatory for sex, romance and the human desire to be liked and accepted to predominate the interests of folks between the ages of 13 to around 28. In this quest for acceptance and the urge to procreate, billions of folks around the world will emulate others. This emulation takes many forms. They will emulate the styles of clothes others wear. The music they listen to will likely come from external cues. The very phrases they use to communicate will come from television, movies and now, the internet.

In the old days they sought out "role models" for youth. It was well known that youth is more imitative and so those who felt the impulse to better society tried to isolate and put forth proper individuals to emulate. History has seen the emulation of writers, thinkers, soldiers, statesmen and people of considerable talent. In the era of motion pictures and mass communication, anyone receiving a high quantity of exposure became the object of youth emulation. Movie actors became "movie stars." Radio and then television introduced the youth of the world to new objects. Sadly, this illustrated to observant folks that many were not emulating folks because of their superior abilities, but were, instead, really just emulating whatever was visible. When young girls emulate some pop figure such as Britney Spears, Avril Lavigne or the Spice Girls they do not emulate excellence they simply mimic that which is put forth.

Corporations around the world understand this. You can bring forth a big pile of stinking manure and make a TV show about it or turn it into an advertisement and there will be a simple percentage that tune in faithfully simply because it has been put in front of them. Yes, a cartoon character based upon manure would sell when given proper bulk exposure. Even this fascinatingly repellent blog finds a marketplace. Some read it because it is there. Others read it because they are non-conformists. It is likely only a small (though I hope not) percentage read it because they are interested in what I have to say. Blog traffic is mostly just looky-loos following the flow of blog traffic patterns at any given time.

The popularity of home-pages such as MSN or Yahoo, which present and guide folks to predetermined and commercial interests, is mute testimony to the somewhat sheepish nature of humanity. The internet has primarily been used to exploit human patterns and insecurities, just as films, television and radio have done before it.

Here's a news-flash. There is no such thing as "popular" culture, there is only mass exposure and mass emulation. Think about it a bit. Even the blog-world, where original thought has potential expression, is mostly imitative and repeats sentiments endlessly like a room full of echoes. I could point out countless such blogs where the content is regurgitated in one form or another. Original thought and content is less common among mainstream blogs. It is found more often in personal journal type blogs, not surprisingly, these are often the least trafficked.

Older folks are less imitative, though most have been already shaped by their youth when they were more emulative. It's human nature. It's also quite scientific. We absorb the signals from that which we are exposed to and sympathetic signals will be regenerated to some degree. Our pasts and the data we already have absorbed will determine that which we focus our attention upon.

Emerson said it more succinctly, "Imitation is suicide."

Naturally, I had to end this entry and show that we all imitate to a certain degree. The key is to filter and limit that emulation as much as possible.



Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Prelude to the State of the Union

Tonight is the State of the Union address. President Bush will set down some plans for the US and its place in the world. Naturally, the rest of the world will criticize and heap scorn on both Bush and his agenda. Then the rest of the world will go back to whatever it was doing, large parts of it, watching television.

For those who don't intend to watch it, I will summarize it briefly:

Bush will outline an agenda involving peace and security making note of the historic vote in Iraq. Both sides will stand up and cheer. On the domestic side his speech will mention and focus on the reformation of Social Security for the "security" of future generations. The Republicans will give a standing ovation and the Democrats will sit and make grumpy faces. On cue, Hillary Clinton will pass out when Bush says "private investments." The speech, especially towards the end, will be laced with references to God and freedom. A camera-shot of a ticked off/embarrassed John Kerry will be included by most of the major networks.

Such is the nature of politics. Our EU allies will be full of consternation that Bush is going to be at the helm for the next four years and the Bush is likely to see some of them replaced/voted out before he leaves the white house. Terrorists will make new photos of GI JOE being captured and Al Jazeerah will only too gladly promote the terrorists PR agenda. The mainstream media will follow suit.



More insightful stuff later. Right now, I have formal wear to get garbed up in.