Matter is great stuff. I love Matter. I love that the universe is full of the stuff that crashes into suns by the silly tons per day, that lights up my night with little twinkles that may add to the passion of a kiss or to the mystery of my human context. But amidst the hiss and swirl of chaos in this universe, exists the scintilla, a mere tickle of energies, the electron and photon, which dance to the lucky quantum tunes of self, at the manifest behest of our sentient awareness. It is the least in energies manifest and yet the greatest to enter the vast waters of time and space.
There are some who buy the naughty idea that self awareness is a mere accident, an illusion to which life falls prey, not to be taken at all seriously . . . and there is the rub, for I do. I believe, that to accept as sacred ones being, conveys a certain advantage, not only in survival but to finding happiness. In the end, no man who is unable to muster enthusiasm for his own life, will feel compelled to protect the lives of others. I also believe that ones self is not to be trifled with . . . that it is best regarded as reality . . . even transcendentally so, because we can perceive the Devine, the spark that gives us all meaning is from a vast flame of personhood worthy of our striving. I . . . am . . . happy. The first two words of that sentence gives meaning to the last word which is a mere adjective and highly dependent on the noun, “I”.
The name of God is, “I Am.”
Here we go. Humor this pedantic school teacher one moment and please pay attention; this is really simple and it means something. Thoughts, when factually representative of Devine principles, have enormous power. Genesis proposes the universe itself was generated from thought. Our persons, are centers of observation. We are the posts, the outposts and the recorders of events. The ideas which zoom through our brains must be brought to task, against results. A thing is either real or not real. An idea is either helpful or not helpful. There are things we can eat and things that can eat us and most would concur the former is to our advantage. We can engage in a vote, as a means of calibration between perceptions, note our preferences of ideology or even experiment with novel opinions, but we cannot vote for a chocolate apport between the cheeks of a donkey nor the symphonies of Mendelssohn to erupt from the same. Something is amiss, and yet, behold! It has been tried before. A larg e crowd is clapping. An ass is bowing. What on earth is all this fuss about?
I digress. Here is the next thought:
“I,” the 8th letter of both the Roman and English alphabet, the normative singular pronoun, which in the vernacular English, is understood to be used by a speaker in reference to himself or herself (the more blessed sex of which I am only witness and adherent) has made note via the synaptic junctions of also singular synaptic monomolecular connections (small though they are) the following observations, which have also been made by similar brains of similar construct as my own, independent of communications between the same. Here then is scintilla:
1. That small instabilities between the correlation of facts, i.e., transfer of data, may enable hidden variables, (idiots) to amplify untruths (lies), into a mainstream data mechanism (news media).
2. Copulatory reflexes (such as the recent expressions from news anchor regarding ‘tingling up his leg’)
Whoopee’s “I would do him”, and crowds of adherents in the latest democratic convention chanting in delirium, hands outstretched to heaven, amidst their Hollywood heaven of Styrofoam and stucco, their mantra, Obama, Obama, etc.
3. There appears to be a contest between me (I, the normative singular person) and others, possessing said similar synaptic conjunctions to dissimilar adherent.
Note the dissimilar:
Obama will reduce the constitution of the United States to an opinion poll of arguable merits. Human life will stand as a force to be tamed. Freedom will become an abbreviated illusion for services rendered. The masses of humanity will become conceptual ploys in four year challenges against reason and against fact. Fact, that empirical impediment to mental chaos, will become the whim of our new leader. Obama will give us our truth, our Obama opium, not even inhaled but sucked down unrefined and chunky, down our emaciated soul bellies. Forsaken are the reality based synaptic injunctions. Welcome all America to your new savior! Here he is! Good bye to the promises you thought where genuine! Goodbye America! Is their really any proof for this? Read Karl Marx, Obama’s mentor: “nothing can have value without being the object of utility.” (hard core materialism) “the first requisite for the happiness of the people is the abolition of religion”. (Materialists cannot abide a supreme spiritual being, nor the worship thereof) “The meaning of peace is the absence of opposition to socialism”. (And this “absence” has always meant forceful elimination.)
Am I connecting too many distanced dots? Has Obama ever exhibited, in all his campaigning, any reverence for the Almighty. Has the reverend Jeremiah Wright been expressing the supreme love of our God? Hasn’t the theme of “Abolition” been continually spouted by Wright, Ayers and now Obama under the new guise of “change”. Isn’t there anything Obama can leave untouched because it works well enough? And this “absence of peace” is certainly equated by Obama’s actions as the need to “eliminate opposition”, his mud hunters sent to Alaska and his attempt to intimidate “opposition” in Missouri with conscripted police, seeming to be only limited by the governor, not Obama’s reason.
Ah, but I digress, the contest is not yet over! There is after all, still a faint chance that McCain will win. The fact is, that to fall off the wire when so many solid footings abound, is humanities preeminent dilemma. Now more than ever, the tipping must not prevail. We are a frail race with amplified abilities that laugh at the spears and clubs and arrows of yore, for we now command the nucleus, the gene, the masses, with pixels and digital sound bites within millisecond delivery. Sanity is such a fragile thing and self-destruction is such a tempting abyss. We have newsreels of frenzied masses adoring other catastrophic choices, choices which cost us millions in human life. What of us who still hold life sacred, who hold ourselves in contempt for losing to such chaos?
Obama . . . that having been said, let us see how quickly the contest resolves in the headlines of American events. Let us see how quickly the ecstatic followers of Obama evaporate, when his messianic claims are abbreviated by the facts. To be sure, we will all suffer shortly. The events of the following years will impact America like the blade of a bulldozer. We will all suffer.
But let it stand for the record, that I, Milton, the normative singular person, noted with others, the disaster to come and the millions of voters who couldn’t grasp the facts, which were in evidence, of the person to whom they where so infatuated beyond reason . . . Obama . . . the name will resonate in history and about whom no voter will beat his breast in shame for the election of the presiding personage over the demise of America, its constitution, its republic, its democratic invective, the worlds hope, and all doubts to the imperative doom of the human race . . . . let the few who have read this blog (the meaning of which stems from the synaptic monomolecular firings within the person of Milton, born 5-23-58 in a small farm cottage in Fresno California, a place not frequented by any politico-VIP or front page face from Newsweek, but nonetheless noted by God the omnipresent, which means “everywhere”, even Fresno California, a subset of “everywhere.” God, who counts hairs and sparrows, the ninety and nine and by implication if not inspiration, humans, we, idiots and presiders extraordinaire over a world most upside down, and yes, even these monomolecular singularities which preside in the divine consciousness of God as quantum fluctuations, pushed into singular event-hood by the powers instilled by our Creator, the very sacred human power of choice, the collective, that is, a democratic majority, hereby spat in the face of the Almighty, and said as plainly as might be said by the powers of human proclivity and sentient action . . . I choose death! Death to my unborn . . . Death to myself and any meaning to my existence (which is merely a thing of opinion) . . . Death to any generation who espouses hope in purpose, life, liberty, happiness, freedom and independence. Let the record now stand, that a “tingling of the leg” has decided the doom of this age. Cursed is our race. Only the grace of a benevolent God can save us.
May the travails of this generation be shortened by the reason and sanity of our righteous and all-powerful God! America is where we ran to find solace and freedom from European tyranny. There are no more Americas. Someone just stepped onto Plymouth Rock and said, “Take me back, I liked the Inquisition, the potato famine, the king’s axe . . .” This paragraph is merely reflective of my own incredulity and utter amazement. I just see America’s thumb struck hard with a hammer and thought I heard, “Wow, that felt great! I’m going to do it again!
It should be said, for balance sake, that evil is recursively slaved to visit itself like a flame run amok after the pyromaniac strikes the fatal match in the middle of a dry pine forest. The apocalypse of John makes this self-evident. The Devil is about to burn. And I do not presume Obama is the devil. God almighty will prevail. But the ride through this future is not to be trifled. How can this be? Do I rant like a southern Baptist at camp meeting? I’m not a Baptist, but I’ll bet you finish reading this blog anyway.
God is all-powerful and all-merciful. We wish for his grace in moments of pain and cry for his mercy when doom approaches. He is at the center of a billion curses per hour and thus mankind avows his existence continually if not humbly.
A reckoning comes; this, like the rising of the sun, is the morning I await. All else is soon to be the shameful history and a painful digression. Obama will be remembered. But not well.
Heaven knows, and we might guess with good odds, the dozen others waiting in the wings, but Obama made the cut. He stands eagerly on the sidelines. His destiny arrives . . . he sees the curl of an ancient finger and bolts off the bench. Here he is!
My head aches for myself, for my children and even for him. He is such a believer and with no evidence at all supporting the efficacy for socialism, he looks not once to the evidence at hand. History, after all, can be interpreted. Yet, the war on poverty is now an engulfing subsidy for more. Nobody stops and says, “Oops, that doesn’t work!” Socialist empires like the Soviet Union lie smoldering in economic ruin, yet 250 million of these people can’t be trusted to report on their pervading condition; it causes Obama no pause.
It is we he now wants. “We, the people,” in some grand nightmare called “hope” and “change.”
Ah the “audacity”!
Milton
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